tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021532061028564162017-11-15T04:29:34.030-08:00Equine InsanityKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-64376069332191975382016-09-07T02:50:00.000-07:002016-09-07T06:38:56.107-07:00I See You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-kEG4V6wtA/V8_PC6bGLfI/AAAAAAAAAgs/4inJ_X1igZo9pYZ5B5OOuwRjUz-rYfs3ACLcB/s1600/Anton2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-kEG4V6wtA/V8_PC6bGLfI/AAAAAAAAAgs/4inJ_X1igZo9pYZ5B5OOuwRjUz-rYfs3ACLcB/s400/Anton2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Photo by Sanni Airaksinen<br /><br /><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: &quot;georgia&quot; , &quot;bookman old style&quot; , &quot;palatino linotype&quot; , &quot;book antiqua&quot; , &quot;palatino&quot; , &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;garamond&quot; , sans-serif , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;verdana&quot; , &quot;avante garde&quot; , &quot;century gothic&quot; , &quot;comic sans ms&quot; , &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i>To truly know someone is to know the silence that stands for the thing they never speak of. ~Robert Brault</i></span><br /><br />Each summer, when I travel to Finland to teach clinics, I meet a lot horses. Afterwards I may not remember all of their names, but I do remember each individual animal, as they all make a unique impression on me, sometimes more so than their humans. I know there are a lot of trainers who merely acknowledge the rider before a lesson (the rider is paying for the lesson, after all!), but I always make a point to greet the horse as well. It may only take a few seconds, but it can be a significant gesture. Even in that seemingly brief moment so much invisible information can pass between me and the animal. Each horse has their unique story and I want them to know that I am interested in that story. And not just the story, the horse itself. At minimum, I am there to connect and help.<br /><br />This might sound a bit strange to someone, but the truth is that it is very important to me. In fact, sometimes I wish I could share the insights I get from the horses with the humans sitting a top. But often times they are not ready to hear half of it. Besides, they are there to learn how to sit on their horse. And I know that once they start to learn how to use their seats to communicate with their horses, they will also be better equipped to hear what their horses have to say. My job is to allow that to happen, not force the result by taking shortcuts.<br /><br />This is why I was intrigued to observe Noora Ehnqvist during one of her clinics this summer. She does the same thing as I do, meets and greets the horse. But because her clinics are all about the horse-human connection on the ground (and on a soul level), she is able to share her insights with the human. In fact, that's the whole point. After she has met the horse, she can suggest the next step for the human to take, to start to connect on a deeper level with her horse.<br /><br />I was very impressed with Noora's ability to "read" the horse. I call it reading, because that is what it feels like to me. Having studied and taught animal communication, I know that we all receive the information from the animals in different ways. I'm not sure Noora realizes herself <i>how</i> she reads the animal, she just does. Which is fine. There doesn't always have to be a need to analyze a technique or even admit that there is one. Animal communication is a very personal experience, often we are not conscious of how the information is passed, we are merely aware of the information.<br /><br />All the horses in Noora's clinic were incredible, of course, but only one of them moved me to tears. At first glance, Anton seemed like an ordinary fellow; a 16 year old spotted gelding who had spent most of his life in one riding school or another teaching people how to ride. After his career as a lesson horse, he had made his way to his new owner, a gentle lady, who had brought him to Noora's clinic perhaps with the hopes of learning to understand him better.<br /><br />I've seen many old lesson horses before and although this gelding was definitely a bit tired, he was by no means completely signed off to life. In fact, I felt like inside his stiff, worn body, there lived a dignified, humorous and above all, self-respecting horse. Noora must have seen this, too, as she immediately suggested teaching Anton a specific circus trick, namely stepping with his front feet on a raised platform to give him a sense of accomplishment and pride.<br /><br />The owner started off with a very low platform. Using body cues and treats, she communicated to Anton what she wanted. Anton, however, didn't need much prompting. He stepped on the low, wooden platform in no time. After practicing with a lower platform, the pair moved to a slightly higher one. No problem. Anton was on top of the task, it was as if he had been waiting for this opportunity all his life. When the audience cheered his efforts, you could visibly see this magnificent horse come to life.<br /><br />We all have the need to be seen and horses are no different. And when I say seen, I don't mean seen in the physical sense, but truly seen as who we are deep down inside, on a soul level. Have you seen the movie Avatar? If you have, you know that when the Na'vi people in the movie say "I see you", it means a lot more than seeing someone with your eyes. It is connecting to their soul, seeing their truth, seeing behind the mask. Sort of like the Sanskrit greeting Namaste, which often is interpreted as "the divine light in me sees the divine light in you". I see you, I truly see who you are and I respect that. I believe "seeing" or even the willingness to engage in an attempt to see, is the basis for all connection.<br /><br />How many horses can ever truly feel seen by humans? We may often feel as if we know the horse, but I dare say we don't. So often it is the story we have made up about them, which we believe to be the truth. This applies to all horses, but especially the ones serving in a riding school. &nbsp;To survive the life they are living, they often must hide who they truly are. And this was Anton's story as well. He was, undoubtedly, a great riding school horse. One look at him told me he was probably calm and steady - the trusted, unflappable mount for kids and adults alike. Never spooky, never resistant; the perfect guy, really. But that was just the outer layer of his persona, the one that mattered most to humans.<br /><br />There are no accurate words in the English language to describe what it was like to see this horse come to his true self. Every time he stepped on the platforms in the arena and the audience cheered, he became prouder and prouder. And not only that, he felt seen. Finally, after all those years, people were acknowledging his true being. Outside he might have looked ordinary, but inside he was royalty, a king, even.<br /><br />Finally, on the second day of the clinic, there was only one more platform left. It was very high. Even Noora hesitated.<br /><br />"Perhaps another time", she suggested, knowing that normally it took days or weeks to get horses to learn to step on this tall platform. But Anton and his owner were already moving towards the massive object. And at that moment nobody had any more doubts.<br /><br />When he stepped on the highest platform with his two front feet as if it was a podium built just for him, Anton truly arrived home. He was no longer a tired, old gelding, but a magnificent stallion who knew his wisdom and power. He stood with pride and looked around over the property as if he had just stepped on it for the first time. And perhaps he had.<br /><br />His presence did not go unnoticed. Suddenly the three mares that had been peacefully grazing in the field next door, came cantering to the arena fence, followed by the herd's lead gelding. As we watched in awe, Anton stepped down from his podium and pranced over to the mares, his neck arched and his ears forward. He looked nothing like the sad horse that had entered the arena at the beginning of the clinic. This was the true Anton, noble and gallant.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVHCuLkGS2c/V8_PY2LQ3cI/AAAAAAAAAgw/HPSgkvfi0_4gilv74Ruem-DYNS2yG29NwCLcB/s1600/AntonRisto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVHCuLkGS2c/V8_PY2LQ3cI/AAAAAAAAAgw/HPSgkvfi0_4gilv74Ruem-DYNS2yG29NwCLcB/s400/AntonRisto.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Photo by Sanni Airaksinen<br /><br />As I watched Anton interact with the mares and the other gelding, tears welled up in my eyes. I was, of course, deeply moved by Anton's incredible transformation, but I was also sad for all the other horses just like Anton, who never get to show the world who they truly are. How many horses share his story?<br /><br />We all love our horses, but I dare say that often we don't stop to truly respect them as individuals. I sometimes hear people describe their horses in endearing, but slightly sarcastic tones. It's fun to tell stories of our butthead horse who did something hilarious (in our opinion). Heck, I've probably done it myself a million times. Sometimes, more often than not, these stories can have a belittling undertone or an unconscious superior edge even when they are meant to be told with love and affection. But if someone was telling similar silly or perhaps slightly degrading stories about us behind our backs, or worse, in our company, but ignoring our presence, we would be deeply hurt. Because these stories are not our truth.<br /><br />I remember when I first met my own horse, Little Love. For the longest time I pinned her as hysterical, untrustworthy and perhaps a bit stupid. I thought she was frustrating, bad-mannered and ditsy. It took me years to see who she really was under all that fussing and stressing, and once I did, she was nothing like the horse I had met years before. Little Love was one of the most co-operative, sensible, peaceful and wise souls I have ever had the privilege to know. I could not have been more wrong about her in the beginning and my only regret is that it took me so long to truly "see" her. By then I also understood that all that other stuff, the hysteria and craziness, was just her way of shouting louder at us humans to finally get our attention. Because none of us were ever truly listening.<br /><br />People say horses are our mirrors. And this is definitely true, to a certain extent. Often when horses are with us, their behavior is a direct response to our own behavior and attitude. But that is only half the truth. Horses may be our mirrors, but they are also unique individuals. And until we sense and understand the deepest truth of each individual horse, until we <i>see </i>her or him as who they really are, we cannot achieve true connection.<br /><br /><br /><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: &quot;georgia&quot; , &quot;bookman old style&quot; , &quot;palatino linotype&quot; , &quot;book antiqua&quot; , &quot;palatino&quot; , &quot;trebuchet ms&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , &quot;garamond&quot; , sans-serif , &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;verdana&quot; , &quot;avante garde&quot; , &quot;century gothic&quot; , &quot;comic sans ms&quot; , &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i>The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer. ~Edward R. Murrow</i></span><br /><br /><br />Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-91872732569539530392016-07-17T07:43:00.002-07:002016-07-17T07:58:52.590-07:00The Best They Can<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cREK9slp-nA/V4uYwAwxn1I/AAAAAAAAAf8/quHuUIOBwzMbTCzbYVkI2XYcRmp0EUsWQCLcB/s1600/judgment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cREK9slp-nA/V4uYwAwxn1I/AAAAAAAAAf8/quHuUIOBwzMbTCzbYVkI2XYcRmp0EUsWQCLcB/s320/judgment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A few weeks ago I ran into an acquaintance and her very ill behaving puppy which already at seven months old was the size of a large Shetland pony. I had met them a few times before and knew that by human standards the dog was “out of control”.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I’m sending my dog to a trainer for five weeks", the owner of the dog told me almost immediately upon our meeting. She was driving her car and the said dog sat in the back seat, not because it wanted to, but because it had no other option, as it was tied tightly by its choke collar to a hook on the ceiling. “We always do this with our dogs, it’s much easier. After five weeks they come back obedient and submissive.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The puppy was trying to shove its face out of the open window, but couldn’t without choking itself. This did not deter it from trying. I nodded and smiled, but in my mind I wondered how devastating for a dog it is to be sent away to a strange place only a few months after he has arrived to his new home and family. And to go to training with a stranger, no less. On the other hand, this is exactly what happens with most horses, often several times in their lives. But I won’t get into that now. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I have always thought sending a dog away to be trained is a cop out, because really, isn’t it much more important to train the owner? One could argue that people should not get dogs if they don’t have the time, resources or interest to put into teaching them how to be in their world. Especially a dog the size of a pony! I mean hello? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh no. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I was definitely starting to fall into judgement. But how could I not? It is so easy, after all. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, we all wrestle with judgmental thoughts sometimes. More often than not. The thing is, however, I don’t want to be judgmental. In fact, already years ago I decided to learn to neutrally observe and understand, no matter what the situation. Judgment isn’t helpful, in my opinion, it only divides people, alienating them from each other. Judgment, I believe, is the root of so many negative interactions in the human world and I want to avoid it the best I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But how to stop?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brené Brown (yes, I’m mentioning her again, she’s that good) introduces an interesting idea to fight judgment: What if we believed people are doing the best they can? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know, sounds counter intuitive, doesn’t it? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But think about it. If you assume everyone is doing the best they can, there is no space for blame and judgment. And without judgment, there is more space for compassion. And having compassion for the people you interact with on a daily basis will have a definite and profound effect not only on the lives of the people you interact with, but your own life as well. So really, whether people are doing the best they can is irrelevant, it’s more important to <b>believe</b> they are doing the best they can. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is some difficult, deep work, I’m not going to lie. There are moments when I want to yell out loud: “Did you see that? OMG, absolutely awful how some people don’t give a shit!” And I try to talk myself out of the belief that everyone is going the best they can. Because hello? Clearly that can’t possibly be true. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But then I take a deep breath and catch myself. Usually at this point the universe will provide me with a reminder. Which is exactly what happened the same week I ran into my friend with her puppy. My husband, who was going through files on his old computer, ran into a folder with ancient videos. One of those videos was of Andiamo, a horse I used to own eleven years ago. The video shows him tacked up with a vaulting pad and surcingle and his head pulled in with side reins that are attached to the snaffle bit in his mouth. Also attached is a long longeline and at the end of the line is who else, but me. Moi. Myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Andiamo looks tense. His tail is tucked between his legs and his croup is low. Anxiously he lifts his head and braces against the (very) short side reins while his back is like a rod iron, flat and unyielding. The look in his eyes is wild, but despite the evident panic, he is behaving like a “good boy”, cantering on the circle, doing what I am asking him to do, allowing the vaulters to move on and around his back. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I stand in the middle of the circle, lunging him with pride, and most likely have no idea of my horse’s true emotional state. Or perhaps I have an inkling, but I am thinking that he is a green vaulting horse and he’s supposed to be a bit freaked out. I’m not worried, because one day he’ll gets used to it all, he’ll stop being afraid. Because horses are like that, always afraid of this or that or the other thing, that’s normal. It is the humans’ job to continue doing what we do, until the horse gets used to it. And if he really is freaked out, he wouldn’t allow us do what we are doing, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wow, that looks absolutely awful”, are the first words that came out of my mouth upon watching the video. Yes, judgment. Of myself. Actually, I could almost argue that it wasn't judgment, but the truth. I couldn’t believe the short side reins, and how Andiamo was opening and closing his mouth. Clearly he was in pain. And his eyes! So fearful… and…and…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The irony of this situation, of course, is the fact that for the past year I have had the privilege to spend time getting to truly know this horse called Andiamo. And Andiamo, the horse on the video and who is now retired on his current owner’s property, is a kind, forgiving and wise soul. Back in the day, he used to be a dressage and vaulting horse, winning ribbons, but for the past year he has been my teacher and guide to my less perfect self. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is an understatement to say that my philosophy and way of being with horses has changed significantly in the past decade. Perhaps, instead of listing all that has changed, it would be more accurate to admit that <b>everything</b> has changed. And how much can a human mind and heart grow in just ten years!&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, when I watch the video, I can see that we should have stopped with Andiamo or perhaps not even started in the first place. But I was in such a different place then, a celebrated vaulting coach, a dressage rider and trainer. Competitive and goal oriented. I would not have been capable of seeing horses in the light I see them now, even if someone would have shown me. I was in a completely different mindset: human doing instead of human being. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But, as I dared to claim before, everyone is doing the best they can, even I am, on the video. I wasn’t deliberately causing Andiamo distress; my awareness – in hindsight – was simply limited. Which makes me wonder how limited it is now. Will I look back at myself in ten years and label myself ignorant, yet again? What have I missed today which tomorrow will be a blaring mistake, even abuse?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Perhaps this is a lesson in humility, yet again. We cannot know where people are coming from. The lady who is yelling at her kids or the trainer who kicks his mount with spurs; they are all doing the best they can. No, really, they are. It may not seem like that to some of us, but we also don’t know the whole story. We don’t know where they have been, what their life looks like, what is their cross to carry. We also don’t know where they are on their so called path. Maybe they aren’t ready to look at what you and I are doing with our horses. Maybe they are not there yet. Maybe even we aren’t there yet, even though we think we are enough above it all to judge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I have made a commitment to myself to believe Brené Brown. To believe that everyone is doing the best they can. You, me and my friend with her gigantic puppy. And so it was eleven years ago when I thought I was training Andiamo to be a vaulting horse even though he was clearly freaked out and anxious. Our best can merely be our current best. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I think meeting Andiamo again, being able to look back and see how I have grown, how I have changed in the past decade has been one of the most valuable lessons of my life. Because it is now clear to me that although people are always doing their best, it doesn’t mean that their best cannot change to be even better. It can, through an open mind, a lot of work and continuous reflection. It is a (sometimes painful) practice that never ends. Tomorrow my best is hopefully better than my best yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Others may evolve or they may not. Regardless, they are doing the best they can. We really can’t ask more from anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>&nbsp;"Love is the absence of judgment."</i> &nbsp;- Dalai Lama</span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-38221767932999696242016-07-17T07:43:00.000-07:002016-07-17T07:43:43.880-07:00The Best They Can<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cREK9slp-nA/V4uYwAwxn1I/AAAAAAAAAf8/quHuUIOBwzMbTCzbYVkI2XYcRmp0EUsWQCLcB/s1600/judgment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cREK9slp-nA/V4uYwAwxn1I/AAAAAAAAAf8/quHuUIOBwzMbTCzbYVkI2XYcRmp0EUsWQCLcB/s320/judgment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A few weeks ago I ran into an acquaintance and her very ill behaving puppy which already at seven months old was the size of a large Shetland pony. I had met them a few times before and knew that by human standards the dog was “out of control”.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">"I’m sending my dog to a trainer for five weeks", the owner of the dog told me almost immediately upon our meeting. She was driving her car and the said dog sat in the back seat, not because it wanted to, but because it had no other option, as it was tied tightly by its choke collar to a hook on the ceiling. “We always do this with our dogs, it’s much easier. After five weeks they come back obedient and submissive.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The puppy was trying to shove its face out of the open window, but couldn’t without choking itself. This did not deter it from trying. I nodded and smiled, but in my mind I wondered how devastating for a dog it is to be sent away to a strange place only a few months after he has arrived to his new home and family. And to go to training with a stranger, no less. On the other hand, this is exactly what happens with most horses, often several times in their lives. But I won’t get into that now. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I have always thought sending a dog away to be trained is a cop out, because really, isn’t it much more important to train the owner? One could argue that people should not get dogs if they don’t have the time, resources or interest to put into teaching them how to be in their world. Especially a dog the size of a pony! I mean hello? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh no. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I was definitely starting to fall into judgement. But how could I not? It is so easy, after all. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, we all wrestle with judgmental thoughts sometimes. More often than not. The thing is, however, I don’t want to be judgmental. In fact, already years ago I decided to learn to neutrally observe and understand, no matter what the situation. Judgment isn’t helpful, in my opinion, it only divides people, alienating them from each other. Judgment, I believe, is the root of so many negative interactions in the human world and I want to avoid it the best I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But how to stop?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brené Brown (yes, I’m mentioning her again, she’s that good) introduces an interesting idea to fight judgment: What if we believed people are doing the best they can? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know, sounds counter intuitive, doesn’t it? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But think about it. If you assume everyone is doing the best they can, there is no space for blame and judgment. And without judgment, there is more space for compassion. And having compassion for the people you interact with on a daily basis will have a definite and profound effect not only on the lives of the people you interact with, but your own life as well. So really, whether people are doing the best they can is irrelevant, it’s more important to <b>believe</b> they are doing the best they can. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This is some difficult, deep work, I’m not going to lie. There are moments when I want to yell out loud: “Did you see that? OMG, absolutely awful how some people don’t give a shit!” And I try to talk myself out of the belief that everyone is going the best they can. Because hello? Clearly that can’t possibly be true. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But then I take a deep breath and catch myself. Usually at this point the universe will provide me with a reminder. Which is exactly what happened the same week I ran into my friend with her puppy. My husband, who was going through files on his old computer, ran into a folder with ancient videos. One of those videos was of Andiamo, a horse I used to own eleven years ago. The video shows him tacked up with a vaulting pad and surcingle and his head pulled in with side reins that are attached to the snaffle bit in his mouth. Also attached is a long longeline and at the end of the line is who else, but me. Moi. Myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Andiamo looks tense. His tail is tucked between his legs and his croup is low. Anxiously he lifts his head and braces against the (very) short side reins while his back is like a rod iron, flat and unyielding. The look in his eyes is wild, but despite the evident panic, he is behaving like a “good boy”, cantering on the circle, doing what I am asking him to do, allowing the vaulters to move on and around his back. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I stand in the middle of the circle, lunging him with pride, and most likely have no idea of my horse’s true emotional state. Or perhaps I have an inkling, but I am thinking that he is a green vaulting horse and he’s supposed to be a bit freaked out. I’m not worried, because one day he’ll gets used to it all, he’ll stop being afraid. Because horses are like that, always afraid of this or that or the other thing, that’s normal. It is the humans’ job to continue doing what we do, until the horse gets used to it. And if he really is freaked out, he wouldn’t allow us do what we are doing, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Wow, that looks absolutely awful”, are the first words that come out of my mouth upon watching the video. Yes, judgment. Of myself. Actually, I could almost argue that it’s not judgment, it’s the truth. I can’t believe the short side reins, and look how Andiamo is opening and closing his mouth. Clearly he is in pain. And his eyes! So fearful… and…and…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The irony of this situation, of course, is the fact that for the past year I have had the privilege to spend with a horse called Andiamo. Yes, the same one in the video. Andiamo, who is now retired on his current owner’s property, is a kind, forgiving soul. Back in the day, he used to be a dressage and vaulting horse, winning ribbons, but now he is my teacher and guide to my less perfect self. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is an understatement to say that my philosophy and way of being with horses has changed significantly in the past decade. Perhaps, instead of listing all that has changed, it would be more accurate to admit that <b>everything</b> has changed. And how much can a human mind and heart grow in just ten years! The video is proof of that. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now I realize that we should have stopped with Andiamo or perhaps not even started in the first place. But I was in such a different place then, a celebrated vaulting coach, a dressage rider and trainer. Competitive and goal oriented. I would not have been capable of seeing horses in the light I see them now, even if someone would have shown me. I was in a completely different mindset: human doing instead of human being. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But, as I dared to claim before, everyone is doing the best they can, even I am, on the video. I wasn’t deliberately causing Andiamo distress; my awareness – in hindsight – was simply limited. Which makes me wonder how limited it is now. Will I look back at myself in ten years and label myself ignorant, yet again? What have I missed today which tomorrow will be a blaring mistake, even abuse?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Perhaps this is a lesson in humility, yet again. We cannot know where people are coming from. The lady who is yelling at her kids or the trainer who kicks his mount with spurs; they are all doing the best they can. No, really, they are. It may not seem like that to some of us, but we also don’t know the whole story. We don’t know where they have been, what their life looks like, what is their cross to carry. We also don’t know where they are on their so called path. Maybe they aren’t ready to look at what you and I are doing with our horses. Maybe they are not there yet. Maybe even we aren’t there yet, even though we think we are enough above it all to judge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I have made a commitment to myself to believe Brené Brown. To believe that everyone is doing the best they can. You, me and my friend with her gigantic puppy. And so it was eleven years ago when I thought I was training Andiamo to be a vaulting horse even though he was clearly freaked out and anxious. Our best can merely be our current best. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I think meeting Andiamo again, being able to look back and see how I have grown, how I have changed in the past decade has been one of the most valuable lessons of my life. Because it is now clear to me that although people are always doing their best, it doesn’t mean that their best cannot change to be even better. It can, through an open mind, a lot of work and continuous reflection. It is a (sometimes painful) practice that never ends. Tomorrow my best is hopefully better than my best yesterday.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Others may evolve or they may not. Regardless, they are doing the best they can. We really can’t ask more from anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>&nbsp;"Love is the absence of judgment."</i> &nbsp;- Dalai Lama</span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-84693592304044368172016-05-27T21:41:00.000-07:002016-05-27T21:41:25.020-07:00Humanity, Evolving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bg9GEgj3UpY/V0kVSPwt0CI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Y7WQnxJJHXQQrxUhJjVB0InBY3qD3HplACLcB/s1600/humanity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bg9GEgj3UpY/V0kVSPwt0CI/AAAAAAAAAfU/Y7WQnxJJHXQQrxUhJjVB0InBY3qD3HplACLcB/s320/humanity.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><br /></i><i><br /></i><i>I apologize for the language in this article. I chose not to edit or filter it for the purpose of authenticity.</i><br /><i><br /></i><br />Sometimes I think the real purpose of teaching other people is to deepen your own learning. There is no better way to understand yourself than to have to explain your own knowledge to someone else. Even though I am known in some circles as a biomechanics riding teacher, I frequently get to explore the core of my own beliefs when I teach, mostly because riding is seldom just a mechanical, technical experience. Horses tend to steadily bring us to the threshold of our own humanity and as a coach and teacher I believe these are the opportunities for the real learning to start.<br /><br />Recently I was helping a student, whom I will call Laura, understand her horse. She wanted to know why he was behaving in a certain way.<br /><br />"Is he doing this just to be an asshole?" She asked sincerely.<br /><br />This question is very, very common among equestrians. Often it's not even a question, but rather a statement: he is an asshole.<br /><br />I calmly explained to Laura that horses did not know how to "be assholes."<br /><br />Okay, I can see some of my readers rolling their eyes now. A few may even be thinking that if I'd met their particular asshole horse, I would not be making such bold statements. But I do believe that no horse could change my opinion about this. Seriously. As I told my student, horses are not out to annoy us or upset us deliberately, they are merely trying to communicate. Perhaps they are in pain. Or they don't like what we are doing. Or they know our emotional landscape and don't like the fact that we are actively working to hide it. Or something else. But there is always a reason and it's not "being an asshole".<br /><br />In general horses tend to choose the behavior that is the most profitable for them. If you are leading your horse to the arena and he drags you over to a patch of grass, he's not doing it to be mean, but because eating grass is rewarding the behavior. And when something is rewarding, the horse will continue to do it. The same applies to many, many other scenarios.<br /><br />I admit, I could see why Laura felt tempted to call her horse an asshole, she was stuck in a vicious cycle with him. She used most of her energy to correct and reprimand him for his "bad" behavior. I am deliberately using quotes with the word bad, because using this kind of terminology always comes with the assumption that we as humans make the rules. Meaning that we decide what is good or bad behavior. Because from the horse's point of view it is all just behavior for which it either is getting rewarded or not.<br /><br />"Stop it!" "Don't!" "No, no!"<br /><br />Laura was trying to tack up her horse. Her verbal cues were accompanied with slapping and pushing, which seemed to only augment matters, leading to a whole new host of problems such as nipping and biting. After observing all this for a moment I suggested that instead of focusing all the attention on the horse's unwanted behavior, Laura should look for the behavior she desired and find a way to reward the horse for that. Because, as I said previously, horses will choose the behavior that is the most rewarding.<br /><br />I briefly explained the principles of negative and positive reinforcement to Laura. It is always interesting to discover how little people really know about operant and classical conditioning even though they have operated in the world of horses for decades. On the other hand, I was in the same boat some ten years ago. Perhaps I had a bit more knowledge than your average Jeo, but I definitely could not put that knowledge into words and explain why I did what I did with horses, which was mostly negative reinforcement in those days. (if you are not familiar with operant or classical conditioning, please google them!)<br /><br />"In principle I do understand what you are saying," my student said. "With children it's the same idea, using the carrot is more effective than spanking. But this is a horse. I tend to think that there are moments when it's best to just smack it to get the point across quickly."<br /><br />"Like take my seven year old daughter and her pony," my student continued before I could comment. "The pony is constantly going for grass when my daughter is leading him. Isn't it better to teach my daughter to smack the pony in the face to prevent him from doing that? Not only should the pony not go for the grass, I hate watching my daughter yank and pull to get him off it. I mean, there are some moments when smacking the horse is just better for the horse, too, right?"<br /><br />You have perhaps guessed that I don't believe in using violence with horses. But how do we define violence? Because truth told, sometimes it really seems to be a matter of interpretation. My Webster dictionary says it is "physical force used so as to injure, damage or destroy; extreme roughness of action." It is also an "unjust or callous use of force and power, as in violating another's rights, sensibilities etc."<br /><br />So is smacking a pony an act of violence? Are we violating against the pony's sensibilities, causing it injury? I believe the answer to that question is deeply personal, particularly in the equestrian world where the line between violence and schooling is sometimes blurred. The evolution of my own answer to this question is a good example of that. There was a time when I would not have considered smacking a pony a violent act, although in my own defense I must state that it also never crossed my mind to even question the act or it's justification. Which in hindsight is not only proof of my ignorance, but also my sense of entitlement.<br /><br />Psychiatrist James Gilligan who has written a series of books on the subject of violence, claims that "all violence is an attempt to replace shame with self-esteem." I certainly think this was often true in my case. I hit horses because I desperately needed to control them. And why did I need to control them? Because if I didn't, I looked bad.<br /><br />Okay, perhaps it was a bit more complex than that. It usually is as we are complex human beings. I was taught at a young age that violence was the answer with horses in certain situations. The power trip came much later. I do, however, believe there is a lot of truth in what Gilligan says even though he is talking about violence between humans. But I did not bring this up in my conversation with Laura, because complex matters such as these take a while to unravel. And although my own story resonates with Gilligan's words, perhaps hers doesn't. It is always good to start with the aforementioned operant conditioning and how positive punishment as a training method does not work long term. But once the learning theory is covered, we are left with deeper issues. Especially because in Laura's case, this involved her young daughter as well.<br /><br />"Laura", I said after thinking about it for a moment. "I believe the answer to your question depends not only on the way you want to train your horse, but on your parenting philosophy as well. Do you want to teach your seven year old daughter that violence is a justified method of solving a problem with her pony? Or do you want to help her find a non-violent way to communicate with the animal?" <br />It was interesting to follow to the expression on my students face as she took in what I said. I realize that although helping horses is definitely one of the reasons I am an equestrian coach, more importantly I want to help humans find their way to connect with personal questions such as this one. Finding answers may not be in the cards immediately, but awareness is a start. I'm not sure yet which direction Laura will take with her horse or her daughter, but I know that our lesson gave her a lot to think about. Which is my main goal. Heck, it gave <i>me</i> a lot to think about, which means killing two birds with one stone (ugh,what a horribly violent metaphor, wish I could recall another, more positive one!)<br /><br />Understanding is one of my core values in life: I want to understand rather than judge. Therefore I can honestly say I'm not judging Laura or anyone else who struggles with these questions. Quite the contrary, I commend them for finding their way to a place of struggle. If you are struggling with it, you are perhaps ready to question what you are doing. And we need to continue to question, that is how we evolve has human beings, that is how we cultivate our humanity.<br /><br />Horses have been my teachers, but so have my students. I feel that I am constantly challenged to find a novel way to navigate these important issues and just as often I am learning new ways to read the road map. It is clear that although my starting point may be to teach people how to sit on their horses correctly, it is often just that, a starting point. What happens then, is out of my hands and mostly up to the horse and his person. I merely hope I am taken along for the ride towards kindness and compassion.<br /><br /><i>"The next evolutionary step for humankind is to move from human to kind." &nbsp;- author unknown</i><br /><i><br /></i><br /><br />Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-36047098474690908242016-04-09T21:40:00.000-07:002016-04-09T21:40:31.240-07:00Live The Questions Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOqexMayBL8/VwnNFda3jMI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/IEjy4BpHEpUk89gvKVDqO24eIgun4e1Pg/s1600/tao%2Bobserv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lOqexMayBL8/VwnNFda3jMI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/IEjy4BpHEpUk89gvKVDqO24eIgun4e1Pg/s320/tao%2Bobserv.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br />A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with several strangers on Facebook. The subject matter revolved around a video someone had posted of Monty Roberts "training" a horse. I use quotes, because I personally didn't feel this was the way to go about introducing a horse to a plastic bag, which is what Monty was doing on the video. He had the plastic bag on a stick and every now and then would whip it out from behind his back causing the horse to nearly fall over from fear and the attempt to escape. But of course he couldn't escape, because he was in a halter and who else was holding the other end of the lead rope than Monty himself.<br /><br />There is actually a term for what Monty was doing on that particular video and it's called flooding. Flooding occurs when the animal feels it cannot escape a scary or painful situation. It is psychologically damaging to a horse and often leads to learned helplessness. Learned helplessness unfortunately looks a lot like the state trainers like Monty are looking for. The horse is calm and seemingly nonreactive to stimulus, like the plastic bags. This is not because he no longer is afraid, but because he has shut down emotionally. You could see the horse on the video was heading that way, he was fiercely trying to control his reactions to the bag, but fear itself was still very visibly present: when Monty touched the horse with the plastic bag he did his best to stand stock still even though he was shaking all over. <br /><br />As you may know, there are several schools of thought on this matter and although some years back I was all for Monty's way of doing it, I have since then jumped ship and &nbsp;found other ways that feel more humane and do not involve scaring the horse to death.<br /><br />The discussion around the video was lively and good points were made from both sides.<br /><br />Was the horse really feeling like it didn't have any options? What about the option of standing stock still? Because it was a viable option and the one that Monty was looking for. Every time the horse stopped, the plastic bag stopped, so doesn't that mean that the horse gets a choice?<br /><br />Sure, it's like choosing between someone pointing a gun at you or diving into a swimming pool full of alligators. Which one would you choose?<br /><br />Someone chimed in and argued that horses are often afraid in nature and therefore we should definitely not coddle them, but rather arrange scary situations in the name of training. I agree with &nbsp;this, as long as we aren't specifically looking to scare the horse. If a horse is afraid of something, say an umbrella, I believe we should definitely introduce him to umbrellas in several different environments. When I say introduce, I mean letting the horse stay as far away from the scary object as necessary for it to remain relatively calm and relaxed. This is important for learning and I don't believe anyone can learn in fear, at least nothing constructive. You can definitely "learn" to be afraid in certain situations, but isn't that the last thing we want the horse to accomplish? So when training a horse, we should always look for sings of worry or anxiety so we can "back off" before the horse crosses over into fear.<br /><br />Desensitizing takes time. Often I use positive reinforcement, which in practice usually means using a clicker and treats. Sure, it takes longer perhaps this way, but the effects last a life time. I don't believe in ever scaring the horse. Freaking a horse out on purpose does not build trust and trust is key to my relationship with horses and humans alike.<br /><br />The discussion continued. Someone posted a video of Kyra Kyrklund, a world famous Olympic rider and horse trainer, helping a student train her horse to walk calmly forward during loud applause from the surrounding crowd. This was done by bringing the horse in the arena and asking the crowd to clap very, very quietly. When the horse walked forward in a relaxed manner, the crowd stopped clapping. As the horse progressed, the clapping intensified.<br /><br />Although the horse on the video never became fearful, Kyra did state that "sometimes we must scare horses" while training them. I'm not sure what she exactly meant with scaring a horse, but the person who posted it used this as an argument against me and my opinions. He wrote:<br /><br />"Let's see, <b>you</b> state that we should never scare horses when we train them and <b>Kyra Kysklund</b> says we certainly have to sometimes scare the horse in the name of training, who do I believe? Sorry, I think I'll pick the Olympic rider."<br /><br />Interesting argument. I did not take it personally, because really, everyone has the right to believe whatever and whomever. The truth is: I stopped believing every word Kyra says a long time ago. Just because she is an Olympic rider, does not mean she knows everything about horses. And just because I'm not an Olympic rider, doesn't mean I can't know somethings Olympic riders don't know. I dare say there are not many Olympic riders who spend hours and hours just hanging out with horses doing nothing, learning about their inner world. Nor are there many who have ridden dozens and dozens of horses in bitless bridles. Or tried clicker training. Just as I know an Olympic rider could teach me many things, I believe I could return the favor.<br /><br />People are so inclined to blindly believe "the authority" especially in the equestrian world. I think perhaps this is the reason it has taken so long for positive change towards compassionate horsemanship to take hold. People don't dare listen to their hearts or think on their own. They would rather believe the trainer, even if she is using questionable methods to get results. I don't know how many people I have met who can't believe some of the stuff they were involved in just in the name of training. The regret is often overwhelming.<br /><br />"I didn't know", they will say in despair. "If I had understood/said something/known it was wrong/realized/questioned..."<br /><br />But we don't question. And I know exactly how that is because I used to be this way, too. I believed everything my riding teachers and coaches told me without having the sense to question them. Or to listen to what my gut and sometimes even common sense was telling me. It took me decades to get over that and start thinking with my own brain.<br /><br />There have been several telling and slightly disturbing studies around our innate need to believe and obey the authority. Perhaps the most famous one is Stanley Milgram's social psychology experiment from 1961 in which a man in a "lab coat" ordered the subject to administer electric shocks to another person when they gave the wrong answer in a test. I have watched a few hours of video footage of the experiment and it is incredible how far people will go in hurting another individual just because a person they perceive as the authority told them to do so. Even when they hear the other people screaming in pain and they themselves are visibly distressed with following the orders, most people will continue the morbid task.<br /><br />The results of this study, which have been replicated several times in different cultures with similar results, are truly unsettling. But it does explain a lot, doesn't it? We would like to think that we are the individual who would not follow the authority or would at least question their orders, but according to the studies most people don't (even if they think they would). So in that light it is not hard to understand why so many gurus in the horse world are not questioned, even when people clearly witness them abusing a horse.<br /><br />I do believe everyone has something valuable to add to our learning experience no matter what their background. Sometimes we can learn from a child who looks at our familiar world with new, curious eyes. I'll never forget the moment when my then three year old son asked me why my student's horse had his mouth open. I had never even noticed the horse opening his mouth under saddle! Of course, my knowledge and awareness have increased ten fold since that day, but it is still incredible to think that I did not have the sense to wonder or even notice about the horse's mouth when it was the first thing my son saw.<br /><br />And what comes to the gurus, experts and professionals... Yes, there are people who know so much and who can give us incredible knowledge. I spent many, many years admiring Kyra Kyrklund and learning from her, and for that I am forever grateful. And I still admire her riding skills. I believe she knows very much about horses. But, even Kyra doesn't know everything. Nobody does.<br /><br />I believe we should continue to educate ourselves, no matter who we are. We should also continue to look at all the information we receive with a questioning attitude. Is it humane? Does it cause the animal pain or distress?&nbsp;Do I believe it to be correct?&nbsp;Do I believe this is correct because it makes sense to me or do I believe it because someone I think should be an expert said so? There can be a vast difference between the two.<br /><br />Sometimes, when we look at things from a new angle, everything changes, even the things themselves. And this encourages us to keep finding new angles, new lenses to look through. Or at least that is what happened to me. I sometimes wonder, where does my evolution end. Or is there an end? Sometimes I am acutely aware of my own ignorance and yet other times I feel my progress in my bones.<br /><br /><i>"Be patient with all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."</i> &nbsp; - Rainer Maria Rilke<br /><br /><br /><br />Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-64969541949194158332016-03-11T09:47:00.000-08:002016-03-11T09:50:59.046-08:00The Child Within<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XB2e6fu5H8I/VuL4rfruuCI/AAAAAAAAAdY/yu6k9bIbNWIu25r_iJHCyhLfre0Na4aMA/s1600/child%2Band%2Bhorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XB2e6fu5H8I/VuL4rfruuCI/AAAAAAAAAdY/yu6k9bIbNWIu25r_iJHCyhLfre0Na4aMA/s320/child%2Band%2Bhorse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Horses have an uncanny ability to bring up strong emotions in us. If we are not plagued by frustration, we are overcome with joy. If there isn't steam coming out of our ears, there is love spilling from our hearts. Perhaps this is the intrigue of horses, they push us to look at ourselves, especially the dreaded dark side, more times than we care to count, but they also fill us with love. Joy, compassion and gratitude are frequently present, but so are anger, frustrating and sadness.<br /><br />And then there is fear.<br /><br />Fear is one of the most common emotions in equestrians all over the world. If you are feeling it, well, so is someone else. We all have fear at times, and we should, as fear is healthy, it keeps us safe. And sometimes spending time with horses can be dangerous. But unfortunately fear wants more than just to warn us, it wants to take over. So when you notice that fear no longer sits in the passenger seat of your life, but is in your lap, trying to take over the steering wheel, it's time to take a closer look at it.<br /><br />A client contacted me recently, wanting to better understand and eventually control her fear of riding and handling horses at the riding school where she rides once or twice week. She had thought she had put her fear behind her, but after her teacher was involved in an accident, fear showed up again, this time stronger than ever.<br /><br />I always commend students and clients who approach me with this subject matter. Admitting you have fear is the first step in the long process of recovering from it. Fear is important and should always be listened to carefully. What is fear's message?<br /><br />In my client's case it took a while before we arrived at the very heart of the matter. We talked about where and when fear enters the picture. What triggers it? What behaviors does my client engage in to feel "secure"? How can she help herself when fear is present?<br /><br />Our discussion took us into many topics such as the fear of losing face with your peers, feeling insecure about your abilities, hating the element of surprise and the feeling of foreboding chaos which has my client observing her surroundings neurotically for the slightest disturbance that could trigger a reaction from the horse.<br /><br />"I feel like a little girl, when I'm afraid," my client said. "It is crazy. I feel so capable elsewhere in my life, but at the barn I'm lost and insecure. I don't trust myself at all, especially now that my regular teacher is not there."<br /><br />"How long has fear been present in your equestrian hobby?" I asked.<br /><br />"Good question," my client said thoughtfully. "Probably always."<br /><br />I felt that we were getting to something important, so I pressed on.<br /><br />"When did you first start riding?" I asked. "Tell me about that time."<br /><br />My client was silent for a second. Then she said: "I was eight and there was zero instruction. I was literally plopped on a pony and pushed in with the others. If the ponies didn't go, the teacher chased us with a whip. I was a very shy and timid child and was scared shitless the whole time, it was so out of control and I had no idea what I was doing."<br /><br />She was silent for a moment. "Oh my goodness," she then said.<br /><br />Yes, oh my goodness, indeed. This was the defining moment. This is when the twine started to unravel, when Pandora's box opened, then the seas split.<br /><br />"I have carried that experience I had as a little girl with me since it happened. For years. It is my identity, how did I not see this before this moment? No wonder I feel like a little girl at the barn, I AM the little girl I once was."<br /><br />This is not the first time a client or student of mine revisits the very beginnings of her equestrian life and discovers the key to her problems in the present. For example, a few years back a student of mine was having trouble riding her mare in the arena.<br /><br />"She just moves like she is in molasses. Or worse, she stops and won't go. I don't want to force her, that's not my style. I mean I can ask, but I'm not going to start kicking and whipping her." She sighed. "It drives me mad. And all I have to do to get her to move is to leave the arena. If we were in the field right there, she goes beautifully." She pointed at the field next to the arena.<br /><br />And she was right. We tried everything, correcting her seat, finding her inner power, clicker training, which all worked for a split second and improved the situation. But in the end, her horse just retreated back to sulking in the middle. The worse part, from my student's perspective, was that the mare would go with another rider.<br /><br />"It's me, I see that, but I can't fix it," my student said with tears in her eyes. I could see how frustrated and even ashamed the mare's owner was. Nothing seemed to work.<br /><br />Until I asked the right question.<br /><br />"Tell me about your riding history. When did you start riding and how was it for you, when you started?"<br /><br />Turns out my student was a very quiet and painfully shy child. When she started riding at 8, she never was able to get the ponies to move. So she spent most of the lesson standing in the middle of the arena, where the teacher either ignored her or shamed her, after which she was chased with a whip.<br /><br />"It was horrible, I felt like I was such a failure."<br /><br /><i>Wow, and does that remind you of something that is happening now, this very moment, with your mare? Here you are, yet again, in the middle of the arena, on a horse that refuses to move.</i><br /><br />It is amazing how our childhood experiences affect the way we are as adults. As children we are so open to everything, so vulnerable and unassuming. This is where and when our values are made, our identities are molded. And it is even more amazing to witness the way horses see this trauma in us and bring us to look at it, over and over again, as if they are trying to help us resolve it, once and for all.<br /><br />I was a tough tomboy as a child. Sensitive inside, but determinate and energetic outside. When I started riding, it took my teacher about five minutes to figure me out. I was given one of the biggest horses in the barn to ride, a lazy Finnish horse called Viri. I was just a wee little thing, barely 10 and eager to please my teacher. I didn't know how to ride, but I knew that if I got the enormous gelding to go, my teacher would praise me. And boy did she!<br /><br />From that moment on my fate was sealed. I was given the laziest, most stubborn horses to ride and each time I rode it was like going to war. And each time it worked. By the time I was in my teens, I had the reputation of being the one to get any horse to go. I learned to kick them effectively, and not only that, but hit them, too.<br /><br />Took me a while to recognize that child manifesting in me and work her out of my system. When you have always been the one who gets the last word with any horse, there is a lot of anger, pride and ego to sift through before you arrive at a neutral place. Just like my client's fear was handed to her on a silver platter, I was handed the identity of a tough rider, one that didn't take no for an answer.<br /><br />You might think that these childhood experiences are not that important, but they are. We may carry them with us in our bodies, our very cells, for the rest of our lives. We tuck them in to the back of our minds where they become values and belief systems, identities and thought patterns. Understanding their power is crucial. And, if we do not tear down the walls we have build around those childhood experiences, they will continue to manifest in our lives over and over again.<br /><br />So, I ask you now, what is the unwanted emotion you continuously run into with horses? Is it fear? Anger? Insecurity? Shame? Inadequacy? Something else?<br /><br />Did you have an experience with horses when you were a child? Go back in time and remember your first ride, your first teacher, your first horse. What were you feeling? Can you trace your way back to the heart of the heart, the core of the core, of who you are with horses today?<br /><br /><br /><i>"What we remember from childhood we remember forever - permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen." </i>~Cynthia OzickKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-59267302439420614722016-02-19T11:16:00.000-08:002016-02-19T11:21:02.186-08:00The Arena<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5sEdBbE8or0/VsdqLipfDtI/AAAAAAAAAcw/NIZVlzaXjvc/s1600/arena%2Bpic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5sEdBbE8or0/VsdqLipfDtI/AAAAAAAAAcw/NIZVlzaXjvc/s320/arena%2Bpic.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p><p>After writing the post The Journey, Yours and Mine, I have received many messages from people who struggle with their journey because it makes them feel so exposed. I am always honored to hear your stories, so please keep them coming (email at the bottom of this page). <p>In addition, and quite appropriately, I have for the past month studied with Brené Brown in her online course, Living Brave, which has helped me circle back my thoughts as well. <p>Who is Brené Brown, you may ask. <p>Brené Brown is a researcher from Texas, who studies vulnerability, authenticity, courage and shame. <p>Yeah, wow. That's a heavy (and perhaps a bit taboo) subject list, to say the least. And not just heavy, but absolutely critical. Because, after visiting and re-visiting Dr. Brown's work over the past three years, I see that we cannot talk about vulnerability, authenticity, courage and shame enough. And what does all this have to do with horses? <p>Well, nothing really, and yet everything. I think I could (and actually might) write another post about Dr. Brown's work and tie it closely to what we encounter when we interact with horses. Anybody who has ever wanted to connect - and I mean truly connect - with a horse, has had to go through vulnerability, authenticity and courage, and perhaps even shame, before they got there. But I won't go into that today, because I want to continue talking about the subject of the journey, yours and mine. Because there's nothing like embarking on a truth-seeking journey that kicks up Dr. Brown's research topics big time. <p>In Brené's first online lesson she reminded her students of Theodore Roosevelt's brilliant quote from his 1910 speech at Sorbonne, in Paris. It, in my opinion, pretty much summarizes her work. <p><b>“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood...who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly...” </b><p>Why is this quote so important? And what and where the heck is this arena? <p>Brené Brown uses the word arena as a metaphor for anything we do that leads to uncertainty and emotional exposure. It is the place where we take risks, where we put ourselves "out there" for the world to see. Sometimes our audience is merely a single person (in a relationship, for example, when we talk about our feelings or with a horse, when we struggle with our connection) and other times it is literally the whole world (you publish a book, for instance, or post a video of your work online). <p>In this blog I talk a lot about the journeys we take with ourselves and our horses and how to cope with feelings of isolation. You have probably guessed that sometimes those journeys take us not only into a real arena or two, but into many, many figurative ones as well. <p>We feel vulnerable as we step off the beaten path and navigate our way over new, unknown territory of horsemanship. <p>We are criticized and judged at the barn for the training methods we choose to use with our horses. <p>We feel exposed and alone for the philosophy we have decided to embrace. <p><b>It could be that our journey often IS the arena, over and over again. </b> <p>Not an easy fate, as you have probably realized by now. Roosevelt knew this first hand, but he had the wisdom to understand the essence and importance of being in the arena. "It is not the critic who counts..." the quote aptly begins. Brené Brown, who brought the Roosevelt quote back into our consciousness in her book Daring Greatly, embraces his idea that <b>if people are not willing to be with you in the arena, their opinions don't count</b>. Especially, if these people have the so called cheap seats. Meaning that they are the people who would never have the courage to be in the arena themselves. In fact, many people do their best to avoid “the arena” to all costs. Why? Because sometimes (ok, let's face it - most of the time) being in “the arena” is one of the hardest things we will ever do. <p>And, as the quote says, only in the arena can you triumph. Yes, you can also fail, but failure is secondary to the fact that you tried. As long as you know that you dared greatly, that you had courage and you did your best, it was worth every second of it. <b>Because that is what life is really about, doing what feels right, pursuing the things you love and are passionate about.</b> And falling and getting up to do it again. Only by embracing vulnerability - because lets face it, being in the arena is as vulnerable as it gets - you can achieve something bigger than yourself. <p>This does not mean that we don't listen to constructive criticism or that it cannot be given. It definitely can. But judging without knowledge and questioning with curiosity are two different things. This quote is about the critics who don't stop to think and understand, but who bully and call names to cover up their own shame. Who want to find someone to laugh and point a finger at to make themselves feel and look better. <p>But remember, the cheap seats are not the only seats in the arena. There are always other seats as well, seats that are reserved to people who support you. If you are lucky, you have supporters close by, ready to cheer you on when you stumble on your path. Or perhaps you have an online community where people understand or better yet, are also going through the same trials and tribulations as you are. It is important to seek support, find others who know about the arena and understand the work you are going. Trust me, no matter how alone you feel, there are always others going through the same thing, it is just the matter of finding them. <p>And the most important seat in the arena belong to you. Yes, you. You decide who sits in those seats. Is it self-doubt or compassion? Is it negative self-talk or empathy? You can be your best cheerleader, if you learn to understand your own worth. Because, in the end, what should count more: what others think or what you think? <p>So go ahead, put yourself out there, into the middle of the arena, your arena, wherever and whatever it is. Practice clicker training, horse agility, compassionate horsemanship, riding bitless/ saddleless/bridleless. Have your horse go barefoot, live in an open barn/herd, not be ridden. Dive into animal communication, natural horsemanship or unicorns, if that is what floats your boat. As long as your journey is filled with compassion and you are not hurting others, you are on the right path. <p>Go on brave soul, go your journey, wherever it takes you! Dare to practice that which feels perhaps exposing or vulnerable. If you receive petty judgment and cynical ridicule, it speaks volumes about the people delivering said ridicule and nothing of you. Because as we know, the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, his face metaphorically marred with dust and sweat and blood, doing what he feels is right, even if he might fail. Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-76763166799217228842016-02-10T21:20:00.000-08:002016-02-10T21:21:14.684-08:00Solving the Equation<p>My philosophy as an equestrian coach has evolved quite a bit over the past few years. I initially started off as a biomechanics trainer, who focused solely on the rider’s seat. This is still the premise for all of my teaching as it is an easy starting point for all riders, no matter what their background. But there is so much more than biomechanics to riding and my hope is always to uncover these other, often hidden, issues people encounter with their horses. Mainly, I hope to bring my students to a place of mindful awareness of how their actions, attitudes, thoughts and emotions affect the horse. In addition, I hope for them to discover compassion and empathy, not only for the horse but also for themselves, because these emotions are the building block on top of which true partnership is built. <p>Everyone comes to my lessons from their individual starting point. You could be a very traditional rider with long-term goals or someone who mainly trail rides with a bitless bridle and a saddle pad. Or anything in between. All I ask is that you have a respectful attitude towards your horse. Although I do recognize that respect is an elusive term in itself and subject to interpretation. One person’s respect can easily be another one’s abuse. I always trust that the fact that they have chosen to ride with me, is a sign of something. If it is a natural continuum in their already budding curiosity of a different, more horse-centered way of being with horses or a subconscious call for help is left for me to discover. <p>Whatever the framework of each individual student, I proceed at first in a standard manner. Everyone understands biomechanics, at least once it has been explained to them. Whether we stay solely with the biomechanics is up to the rider and the horse. Sometimes it takes only one lesson with me to open up the floodgates of emotion, others ride with me for months before we dive deeper. <p>This past weekend I was working with a student on one of my favorite subjects: turning, something that is rarely explained to riders correctly during their formative years. My student was performing an exercise in which she rides a small square at the walk, working on turning the horse correctly at each corner. Mary Wanless, the British biomechanics guru, introduced me to this exercise years ago and it brilliantly exemplifies the correct turning technique, which has nothing to do with the reins and everything to do with the seat. In addition, it often helps the rider realize what it means (and feels like) when a horse is straight and aligned. <p>The most important fact about this exercise, however, is not in my opinion the mechanics, but that it always and without fail brings the following two realizations to the forefront of the rider’s consciousness. <p>1. Horses are extremely sensitive and responsive animals <p>2. We, as riders, manage to confuse the horse by over-riding, often with incorrect aids. <p>It never gets old to witness the shock on the rider’s face when she realizes her horse is capable of turning with what seems like only a thought, a breath, a wish. Because a horse will, every single time, if you let him. Without exception. <p>“Wow, my horse is really sensitive,” my student exclaimed on Sunday with words I have heard dozens if not hundreds of times. <p>No, your horse is not really sensitive. <b>All</b> horses are really sensitive. More sensitive than we can ever truly appreciate. They react to every movement of our bodies, every weight shift, muscle tension, the passage of breath, thought and emotion we have. Every second we spend on a horse’s back is merely a string of reactions for the horse. Therefore, if the horse is not turning left of bending right, it’s usually not because of the horse, but because of us. <p>Oh yes, it’s true that horses are crooked and stiff. But still, when we are riding a horse and we break down what we are doing into small, miniscule pieces, the finger eventually turns to point at us, the person sitting on the horse. <p>The horse is crooked to the right and is leaning over his shoulder? Adjust your seat over and over again until he can align himself. Getting pissed off and frustrated won’t help. Neither will name calling or using the whip. Not to mention pulling on the reins one way or another. None of this helps, especially if we are not aware of our responsibility as the likely culprit to our horse’s way of going. And even if we are not the direct cause, we are always – <b>always</b> – the solution. <p>That is why this aforementioned square riding exercise is perfect. Not only will the rider learn how the horse turns and straightens, she will also understand that when the horse doesn’t turn or straighten, instead of smacking the horse with the whip or kicking it resentfully while telling it to stop being a jerk, goddamnit, she needs to look in the mirror. The world you get is the world you give away. Or in other words, what comes around, goes around. As hard as it is to admit sometimes, this applies to horses, up to the hilt. <p>I know I can be a tough teacher to chew, because I think that nothing is ever the horse’s fault. That is, if we are looking for culprits, which I’m not. Why? Because I believe that riding is a string of exercises, problems, to which we must find a string of answers. Finding the answers is challenging, but very, very interesting and rewarding, and it is done one piece at a time, like a puzzle. There is no time for finger pointing and blaming, but plenty for empathizing and understanding. We analyze our, the rider’s, pieces, where they are and how they correlate with the horse’s pieces. Then we find out how to rearrange ourselves so that it fixes the horse’s alignment. Sounds simple, right? <p>Solving the equation, the puzzle, the problem, takes a lot of time, but it is so engrossing that it can completely consume you. The short-fused and resentful rider who I identified with in the past has in my case disappeared ages ago. She was replaced by a curious, creative rider, a person who is not afraid to question her own actions. Why would I get frustrated when I am presented with a multidimentional problem and an incredibly wise horse, who is more than ready to communicate and help me find the answers? What could be more interesting than finding the solution together? <p>Rarely does a rider grasp all this at once. The mechanics of it perhaps yes, but the emotions and attitudes that can follow not. Many find it hard to accept that the horse will do exactly what we ask, we just need to know how to ask correctly. It is so much easier to blame the horse. And to smack its shoulder that is falling in or out. And granted, that smacking/yanking/kicking/holding etc. will make it move towards correct for a split second. But it won’t fix the underlying problem, because that can only be solved by finding the root cause of it. <p>When I was living in Switzerland I knew a dressage rider, who was aspiring to compete the higher levels with her young horse she had trained from scratch with some help from her German trainer. The dressage rider, however, had a massive asymmetry in her body. I don’t know if she was aware of this or just in denial, but the effect it had on her gelding was tremendous. This was clearly visible in lateral movements, which highlighted the asymmetry issue tenfold. Often the gelding could simply not perform the movement correctly even though the rider did everything she could to make it happen. There were times when the rider’s aids were so conflicting that the horse performed the movement in the opposite direction than the rider had intended. <p>What can I say, this can happen to anybody. The sad fact about this particular case was that the rider repeatedly reprimanded her horse with a long dressage whip for “the mistakes he made” even though she was clearly the direct cause of these so called mistakes. Without going into a spiel about why positive punishment (i.e. the whip in this case) never works as a training tool and is not a correct way to treat a horse regardless of what it is doing, it was clearly completely out of line in this case. But the rider never stopped to question why her horse was responding this way and refused to discuss it with anybody who dared to try to explain their observations. <p>This past weekend, when I witnessed my student grappling with her own limited abilities to ride and communicate correctly with her horse, I realize once again how hard it is to let go of the idea that we know more than the horse. That instead of being partners, the horse is somehow below us, the one that always makes the mistakes. Or perhaps more accurately it is difficult to admit that we, too, make mistakes. Many and often. <p>On the other hand, when I watched my student, I could also appreciate the dedication and commitment in which she relentlessly tried to understand what was happening between her and the horse she was riding. Everyone is not capable of such introspection and I always have respect for those who do. <p>After the lesson we discussed the exercise and what my student had learned during it. What was the take away? Despite her wonderful insights I realized once again that the process which I had started during our lesson was simply too big to comprehend in one sitting. I watched her face carefully, trying to see the internal process that I knew was there. Would we have another lesson soon? Or ever? As I said before, this work is not for everyone. <p>I am unsure of what will happen in the future with this particular student, but I am happy for what transpired between us in the lesson. I was able to dislodge something, open a small door of awareness in her world. Once the door is cracked, it is best to let the door open in its own time, instead of kicking it down at once. If it were only about the biomechanics, this would be so much easier. But it isn’t. That is why when people ask me what I do for a living, I struggle to answer. Equestrian coach or biomechanics coach does not even begin to cover it, because as I said in the beginning that is just the starting point to a journey which can last a lifetime and take us to landscapes within ourselves we never even knew existed. <p><i>The degree to which a person can grow is directly proportional to the amount of truth he can accept about himself without running away. </i>~Leland Val Van de Wall<b></b>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-88393738857684657102016-01-31T15:18:00.000-08:002016-01-31T15:18:47.224-08:00The Journey, Yours and Mine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BZ3vQHRJilE/Vq6UWQsToLI/AAAAAAAAAbg/BZVriYCktYU/s1600/change%2Bis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BZ3vQHRJilE/Vq6UWQsToLI/AAAAAAAAAbg/BZVriYCktYU/s320/change%2Bis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">After a four year break I find myself sitting at my computer, writing this blog again. It is about time, I would say. At first glance not many things have changed in my life since last time, but with closer inspection it is evident that the journey I started with horses many years ago has taken me deeper into the core of humanity than I ever dreamed of. And thanks to all the horses and people in my life, that journey is far from being over.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The journey I am referring to has not been a walk in the park. In fact, sometimes it has felt like I was single-handedly cutting a path in the jungle with nothing but a pitiful butter knife as my tool. If you, too, have at some point in your life started to challenge everything you ever knew about a particular subject (in my case horses and riding) just to discover a whole new - and in my opinion, better - world, you might be able to identify with what I'm about to say. Especially if by searching for the truth, you have gone against prevailing practices and stepped on a few dozens of toes.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Let me explain.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Approximately six year ago, when I was still living in Europe, I was in an indoor arena working with a student's mare, who had serious issues not only with trailer loading, but relaxing in small, enclosed spaces. I was asking the mare to walk, stop and stand between two cavalettis, something she had found very difficult in the past. That particular day, however, the mare was very relaxed and calm, something that is always a priority for me when training a horse.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">When the mare offered what I asked/hoped for (for ex walked between the cavalettis or stopped from my cue between the cavalettis) she was - after the click that marked her correct behavior - &nbsp;rewarded with a small piece of carrot. Often when doing clicker training I work horses in liberty, but that particular day it wasn't possible because there was another horse in the arena. It was a young Friesian stallion ridden by his owner, a lady, who had taken a few lessons with me in the past. I wasn't paying attention to what the pair was doing, but did notice at some point that the ride was not perhaps as smooth as the rider had hoped. The horse was young, only four, and it didn't always understand what was expected from him, a fact that was often lost on his owner.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I finished my short session with the mare and took her back to her stall. I was satisfied with our work together and was noting this in her training diary when the lady from the arena showed up in the tack room. She immediately made a bee-line towards me.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"What were you doing in the corner of the arena?" she snapped with a loud voice. Her body language was defensive. Here we go again, I thought to myself and took a deep breath. As calmly and clearly as I could muster, I explained the basic principles of positive reinforcement.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"Are you insinuating that I am not positive with my horse?" the lady said loudly.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">What? How she had managed to configure that from my explanation, I had no idea.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"No, no, definitely not. I'm just attempting to explain what I was doing in the arena," I tried to say, but was hopelessly late. The lady was offended. She proceeded to tell me exactly what she thought of me and my clicking device. How dare I show up at the barn to do such strange things with a horse. She also made sure to stress her own positive training methods over and over again. Had I not witnessed with my own eyes how much she loved her horse and does her best to keep him happy?</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I knew that there was nothing I could say or do to convince this woman that I had not criticized nor would I ever criticize her methods in any way. So I opted to nod a few times before slipping away apologetically. Unfortunately this "conversation" did not end there, because for the next month the lady felt inclined to bad mouth me to anyone who would listen and send me text messages in which she gave examples of her positive horse handling.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I was at a loss. I had only done "my thing" quietly in the corner of the arena, but somehow had still managed to offend another person's training methods. And all this merely by existing in the same space.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">This blog post, however, is not about operant conditioning or even about training horses. In fact, instead of clicker training, I could have been leading the mare "from the wrong side"or desensitizing her for days to a saddle pad/halter/wash rack, &nbsp;Or, I could have taken her on the trail in-hand instead of under saddle or alternatively ridden her, but with strange tack or no tack at all. Or low and behold, I could have just sat with her in the pasture, talking to her like she understood every word instead of "putting her in her place" when someone else thought it was absolutely necessary. The point is, I was doing something that was not mainstream.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Does this sound familiar? Perhaps you, too, have experienced or are currently experiencing something similar. Maybe you are the odd-one-out at your barn, the one whose every move is mentally recorded and later dissected among your so called barn buddies. These same buddies are often questioning out loud why you aren't doing things the way they are supposed to be done. This makes you feel like an outsider, alone, under a microscope. Perhaps you even vaguely remember how it was when you were more like them, going with the flow, not questioning, not looking for answers. But there is no going back. Once you have taken the road to compassionate, horse-centered equitation, the only way to go is forward.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Or perhaps you aren't quite "out of the closet", yet. Your barn buddies suspect you are onto something, but they don't quite grasp how much your thinking has changed. Only you know this, and the horses, of course (because horses know everything about us, even when we try to hide it). And the horses are definitely the hardest part of this equation. Since becoming aware of the horse as a sentient being it has become exceedingly difficult to ignore the suffering that surrounds you at the barn. Some horses are suffering from pain, others from boredom or simply from being misunderstood. And you feel helpless and alone.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">On top of all this, you are experiencing one or all of three things:</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">a) Guilt</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps you used to hit and kick horses. You, too, were angry and impatient. Or simply ignorant. You didn't have a clue how your emotions affected a sensitive animal and that there are alternatives to forceful handling of horses. The guilt you feel now for your past actions is suffocating.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">b) Uncontrollable urge to preach</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Because your eyes are now wide open and you see the world differently, it is impossible to keep your mouth shut, especially when the horses clearly need someone to speak for them. So you open your mouth (if you dare), first in a diplomatic manner, and finally all but diplomatically, in your attempt to explain your point.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">c) Anxiety and stress.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Someone wise once said that stress occurs when our values don't match our time management. Meaning that we spend a lot of time doing something that is against our values. Which is exactly what you are having to do, if you are stuck in an environment where people don't treat their horses with the respect you know they deserve.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Why is it upsetting to see someone do something differently? Why do I have to constantly explain what I am doing? Why does it seem like there are several different approaches? How to survive in the midst of it all?</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Whether you are the person blazing your own trail and feeling like an outsider or the person supporting traditional views and pointing a finger at the ones who don't, here are some of my thoughts on the subject matter.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">1. <b>People inherently resist chance, it is part of our DNA</b>. We are scared shitless of change and fight it tooth and nail, some more violently than others. This resistance to change is part of our biology and is closely connected to our propensity for negativity. These traits saved our lives in the stone ages when we were able to note subtle changes in our environment and avoid potential dangers.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">For a long time the equestrian world supported a culture in which everything was done a certain way because "it was always done that way." This has changed, lately at an accelerated pace. People have started to question and look for answers. New truths have emerged through science to replace old "truths." For some people it has been significantly harder to accept these changes than for others. As the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer said over 100 years ago: "All truth passes though three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident." </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">2. We can only change ourselves. <b>We&nbsp;cannot change others, no matter how much we would like to.</b> However, when we change, it automatically affects the people around us. This can scare people (see #1) On the other hand, people may not even conscious of the change that has happened, they are merely subconsciously reacting to the new. So that said, if all goes well, the positive changes in you may prompt similar changes in the people around you. But it can also go the other way as well (see #3)</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">3.<b> Sometimes when we change, we lose relationships,</b> even close ones. I experienced this first hand over the years as I changed from a driven dressage rider and competitive vaulting coach to the person I am today. My journey did not please everyone around me. I heard, for example, that one of my old trainers thought I had "drank the cool aid". Even though she had played a big part in my life for almost a decade, our paths diverged. Sometimes journeys no longer continue in the same direction even if they have traveled hand-in-hand for years.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">4. The world will change, no matter what. <b>Change is part of humanity, of life; without change there is no growth. </b>Change is inevitable.&nbsp;You can practice having an open mind by taking small steps at a time. You don't need to chew everything right away nor is there a need to shove everything you have learned down other's throats this very second. If you are the pacemaker of change, proceed with courage. Sow "seeds" as you go and trust that they will "sprout" when the time is right. Maybe you won't be around to see it because some seeds take decades to crack. And some never sprout. Embrace this fact, if you can. <b>Everybody embarks on their own journey when they are ready and every journey is different, not better or worse than the other.</b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">5. According to my own experience, <b>the best way to deal </b>with the nay-sayers, backstabbers and finger-pointers<b> is through empathy and understanding</b>. I know personally that if you have, without questioning, done something one way for thirty years, and not only done but perhaps taught others to do as well, it is not easy to let all of it go in a heartbeat. It can, in fact, be very, very scary, especially if your whole identity, career and life is built upon it. Everything could be threatened. Therefore it should be no surprise that people can react as strongly as the lady in my story above. Sometimes just the mere presence of someone representing a "threatening new method" can stir up emotions that are hard to control.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Although your life under the microscope might feel difficult, usually it is even more difficult for the backstabbers and fingerpointers. It often shows in their horses and their horses' behaviors. That is something important to keep in mind and heart.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">6. If your journey has come to a point where you feel anxiety about how horses are treated/how horses live/how horses manifest their unhappiness, and you can't help them, because these horses are not yours, I recommend telling the said horses that you can see their anxiety/pain/apathy/boredom.<b> </b>Talk to them as if they understand every word. <b>Everyone wants to be seen and heard, people and animals alike.</b> You may be the only person who sees a horse's attempts to communicate and the fact that you do see it, can be important to that particular horse. The value of emotional support can not be measured, but it is real. Send the horse love and strength from your heart to help it endure whatever life delivers on his plate. And if you have guilt over past deeds, apologize. Horses are the most forgiving creatures on earth.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">6. <b>Dare to walk your own path and believe in the things that feel right to you, even if there are skeptics along the way,</b> even if the journey seems impossible. Because it will be worth it in the end. Because of your journey, you will be smarter and many experiences richer. Yes, there will be emotions, even hard ones. Life is to be lived and felt whole-heartedly.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I trust that this blog post finds the exact people who need it and who can apply it to their own life and life's journey. Because it cannot be denied, we all do have our journeys, be they conscious or unconscious. And if &nbsp;this piece of writing feels a bit "out there", no worries, you can let it go and tell everyone I drank the Cool Aid, if you want. I'm just happy you read all the way to the end, because it tells me that your "soil" is ready for the "seeds"!&nbsp;</span><br /><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19.2px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19.2px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19.2px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19.2px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><br /><br /></div><br /><br />Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-4457109192214200352011-12-13T04:44:00.000-08:002012-08-03T23:48:32.624-07:00The Sun and the Moon<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>When he beats his bars and would be free;<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>It is not a carol of joy or glee,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings –<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>I know why the caged bird sings.&nbsp;</i> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;&nbsp;– "Symphony" by Paul Lawrence Dunbar<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Six years ago when I met my horse Little Love, she was classified as a true nut case. &nbsp;This was a horse that hated everybody and everything.&nbsp; She couldn’t stand to be brushed, she loathed tacking up and riding was definitely the worst thing that ever happened to her.&nbsp; She was perpetually scared of the world around her and was completely unpredictable under saddle.&nbsp; When she was in one of her “scared moods”, she would bolt aimlessly around the arena, hauling her owner around like a ragdoll.&nbsp; She wouldn’t turn right and barely could make a left turn.&nbsp; Other days, when she was in her “calm mode”, she refused to move and trying to get her to trot was like running in a swamp filled with molasses.&nbsp; I really think that the only thing that saved her from being taken to the slaughter house at a young age was her incredibly elastic and larger than life movement, which had every trainer in the country swearing they would be the one to “put that horse into its place.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I worked with Little Love for almost five years before she became my horse.&nbsp; During this time I discovered that she was a misunderstood individual with a lot of opinions, but nobody who would listen to them.&nbsp; When I started listening, many things changed.&nbsp; Suddenly she wasn’t so scared.&nbsp; She also decided it was alright to cooperate with humans, at least some times.&nbsp; But, her basic nature as a flighty, spooky horse remained the same.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“You are wasting your time,” people said, when I relentlessly kept working with the black mare despite the challenges we seemed to face on a weekly, if not daily, basis.&nbsp; “She’ll never calm down.”&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I think it was about three years into it that I admitted that this much was true; Little Love would never change her nervous, skittish ways.&nbsp; Even though she had calmed down significantly, she still had that frightened horse inside her, and that frightened horse could show up within seconds, if she encountered something scary.&nbsp; And she was scared of so many things.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Secretly I wished I would be able to own her one day and give her the life I inherently believed she deserved. &nbsp;Yes, she was a “difficult” horse, but for some inexplicable reason I was willing to live with whatever this brought to the table. &nbsp;So when, through some luck, that day arrived, I took her out of her familiar environment of a commercial barn with the covered arena and other works and hauled her to a small barn where she could be outside as much as possible.&nbsp; And not just outside, but outside with another horse. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;She was shell-shocked at first, not knowing what to do with her new life as a horse, but slowly it all sunk in. And as it did, my horse started to change. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Now Little Love lives at a small barn with three other mares.&nbsp; She still sleeps her nights in a stall, but spends 12- 16 hours of her day outside interacting with other horses.&nbsp; This is still not perfect, as my dream is to get her into a situation where she no longer would have to live in a stall, but in the meanwhile, her current situation is the best we can get.&nbsp; And it has made all the difference.&nbsp; Gone is the crazy horse, the fearful horse, the insecure, skittish animal that took off in the arena over the smallest noise from outside.&nbsp; In fact, the change has been so profound, so incredible, that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, it would be hard to believe.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So, what is it that made the difference?&nbsp; This is a question I have been thinking of a lot.&nbsp; I do believe it is the sum of many things, for not only has her living environment changed, but other aspects of her life as well.&nbsp; She no longer has shoes; she hasn’t had a bit in her mouth for over three years; she rarely gets ridden and never in the arena; she is never forced to do anything; nobody hits her or yells at her.&nbsp; But, that all put aside, there are two elements to Little Love’s life that seem to make the biggest difference: free movement and the company of her peers. From what I have seen, I truly believe that no amount of riding or human contact can replace either one of these fundamental needs every horse has.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Two weeks ago I witnessed first hand the importance of free movement and herd life to Little Love’s well-being.&nbsp; For reasons I’m not going to get into here, she had to be separated from the herd for a short period of time.&nbsp; I didn’t have the heart to keep her stall bound, so we set up a small paddock close to the other horses.&nbsp; In fact, to make her feel “comfortable”, we brought her best friend up to the small paddock next to her.&nbsp; Because of the mandatory electric wire, the two horses couldn’t touch, but at least they could be close to each other.&nbsp; I was confident Little Love would adjust to this arrangement for a few days.&nbsp; After all, this was nothing new to Little Love; hadn’t she lived half her life in solitary confinement, at times never getting to go outside?&nbsp; In comparison, a few days of restricted movement and social life were peanuts. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It took less than 24 hours for my horse to unravel mentally and emotionally.&nbsp; Suddenly the horse that had been calm and composed, brave and fearless, started exhibiting strange behavior such as staring at objects she had seen for months in the driveway, but which now appeared to stalk her.&nbsp; She spooked at the neighbor’s dog she had seen daily; the mailboxes on the side of the road caused her to have a fit.&nbsp; It was impossible to leave the barn area without the mare having a complete meltdown.&nbsp; She reared, she bucked.&nbsp; She stopped and refused to move, just to seconds later suddenly spin around and try to canter home.&nbsp; She was afraid of everything and anything; even the sound of rain drops hitting the bare, leafless trees freaked her out.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Even thought I had seen it a hundred times before, it actually took me a few moments to recognize this behavior and the message behind it.&nbsp; &nbsp;But, when I did get it, it hit me on the head like a bag of bricks; Little Love was demonstrating the same behavior I had seen for years, before she was my horse.&nbsp; This was not a “crazy” horse, this was a horse that had been denied two of her basic needs in life.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I called the barn owner and discussed other options for Little Love and as soon as we discovered a solution where she was able to be in actual physical contact with other horses and move around freely, she went from crazy to calm within minutes.&nbsp; In fact, when I saw her face as she approached her friends, I realized that no matter what it took, I would always do my best to make sure she could continue living as part of a herd on a daily basis.&nbsp; Horses are herd animals and they should never be treated as anything else.&nbsp; They are also animals that are born to move and they should have this opportunity preferably 24 hours a day.&nbsp; Living in a stall for 19 hours out of a day just to go outside alone in a postcard-sized paddock is not the life horses are built to live, no matter what people say.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So many horses are dismissed from our human world as problem horses, but have we ever truly stopped to analyze the reasons these horses act like they do?&nbsp; Human mishandling issues put aside, how many horses at this moment are suffering from their restricted lives in a small stall, without any hope of ever again having real contact with another member of their species?&nbsp; I can assure you we are talking of many, many horses.&nbsp; Perhaps many of them seem alright, even happy (by human standards) for not every horse is a freedom fighter like Little Love who can and will exhibit her opinion about her living conditions to anyone close enough to take notice.&nbsp; Most horses, in fact, accept their fate and find solace in the dull world of learned helplessness where dissociation from reality saves their life, but eats away their soul.&nbsp; This works very well for humans, as these horses are valued beyond measure as “kind and calm”.&nbsp; But, having seen the transformation of my own horse, I can only wonder what lies within all those horses that endure similar, or even worse, living conditions Little Love did.&nbsp; If we freed all the riding school horses and competitive show horses and race horses to live a more species-appropriate life, what kind of personalities would resurrect from the ruins of these animals?&nbsp; What sort of lessons of humanity would they be willing to teach us? What kind of aptitude could we discover?&nbsp; &nbsp;How would this change our relationships with these animals?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The difference in Little Love’s current personality compared to who she was a year ago is like talking about the difference between the sun and the moon.&nbsp; The sun and the moon are both round and from our perspective they live in the sky.&nbsp; There are a lot of other similarities as well, but when it comes down to differences, we all know what they are.&nbsp; Maybe the most striking difference in the way we perceive these two planets is the fact that the sun is always whole whereas the moon can only appear to us in its whole beauty once a month and even then it pales in comparison to the sun’s extraordinary splendor.&nbsp; That is exactly how I see Little Love when I think of her past life; she looked like the same horse she is now, but it was only very brief moments that I could see glimpses of the real horse within.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Whereas now that real horse is present all the time.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And the wisdom and beauty she brings to my world every day takes my breath away.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;~K<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><i>"Caged Bird"</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>A free bird leaps<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>on the back of the wind&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and floats downstream&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>till the current ends<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and dips his wing<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>in the orange sun rays<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and dares to claim the sky.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>But a bird that stalks<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>down his narrow cage<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>can seldom see through<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>his bars of rage<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>his wings are clipped and&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>his feet are tied<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>so he opens his throat to sing.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>The caged bird sings&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>with a fearful trill&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>of things unknown&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>but longed for still&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and his tune is heard&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>on the distant hill&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>for the caged bird&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>sings of freedom.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>The free bird thinks of another breeze<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and he names the sky his own<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>his wings are clipped and his feet are tied&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>so he opens his throat to sing.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>The caged bird sings&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>with a fearful trill&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>of things unknown&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>but longed for still&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>and his tune is heard&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>on the distant hill&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>for the caged bird&nbsp;&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>sings of freedom.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">By Maya Angelou from Shaker, Why Don't You Sing?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lr0DBYO5iSM/TudH3vK3gZI/AAAAAAAAAKc/IBesps1Fr70/s1600/canteringcloseup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lr0DBYO5iSM/TudH3vK3gZI/AAAAAAAAAKc/IBesps1Fr70/s400/canteringcloseup.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Love cantering with her friend Col&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-80258537386695907882011-11-07T06:37:00.000-08:002011-11-07T06:56:59.657-08:00Ice Crystals<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which one to surf. </span></i>~Jonatan Mårtensson</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zouZAZqSUN8/Trfk_N4gXmI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oxKnMJXjrFY/s1600/Masaru_Emoto_hado_water_foto_No_1%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zouZAZqSUN8/Trfk_N4gXmI/AAAAAAAAAJE/oxKnMJXjrFY/s320/Masaru_Emoto_hado_water_foto_No_1%255B1%255D.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I noticed the couple with the baby as soon as I boarded the airplane.&nbsp; It was hard to miss them, because the mother, who was holding the squirmy infant, was blocking the aisle and causing a massive backup of boarding passengers.&nbsp; Once I settled in my seat, I realized the family was sitting two rows down.&nbsp; I watched the mother try to settle down the baby, who appeared to be about eight months old.&nbsp; But the little boy wasn’t going to have it.&nbsp; Every time his mother sat down in her seat, he started crying.&nbsp; So, the mother opted to wander up and down the aisle, despite the other passengers trying to get to their seats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Soon everyone was sitting down, except the mother with her baby boy.&nbsp; She continued walking up and down the aisle, talking to the child in a soothing voice, until the stewardess asked her to sit down for takeoff.&nbsp; The mother sat down and instantly the infant started crying loudly.&nbsp; He squirmed in his mother’s arms and despite the efforts of both his parents, he wouldn’t calm down.&nbsp; Soon his scream escalated to a wait.&nbsp; The plane was already moving, heading to the end of the runway, but the mother undid her seat belt and stood up, holding the flailing baby.&nbsp; The moment she was standing, the boy quieted down, gurgling happily.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">The other passengers looked alarmed.&nbsp; Surely the woman wasn’t going to stand during takeoff?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“Excuse me,” a stewardess called from the back sternly.&nbsp; “Please sit down immediately!”&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp;The mother made an attempt to sit, but when her baby started screaming, she sprung up again, her face distraught.&nbsp; Her husband touched her arm, but she ignored him.&nbsp; </span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Suddenly another stewardess emerged from the front of the plane.&nbsp; She was young, barely in her twenties.</span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp;</span> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“Please,” she said, “you must sit down or we can’t take off.”&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">The mother looked at the young woman and clutched her child, who was quiet again.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“But I can’t, he won’t settle,” she said.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“I understand, but you must sit down or we have to stop the plane,” the young woman replied.&nbsp; She put her hand on the mother’s shoulder and guided her towards her seat. The mother sat down and as soon as she was in her seat, her child protested with a loud wail.&nbsp; The mother struggled to hold her kicking child.&nbsp; I could see she wanted to stand up again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">The stewardess knelt by the woman’s seat.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“Listen,” she said.&nbsp; “I realize this is a very stressful situation for you.&nbsp; You are worried about your child.&nbsp; But it is much less dangerous for him to cry in your arms than for you to stand during takeoff.&nbsp; &nbsp;Don’t worry about the other passengers; they can handle a little baby crying.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I could see tears pouring down the mother’s cheeks; her husband wiped them away.&nbsp; The stewardess put her hand on the mother’s knee and looked her earnestly in the eyes.&nbsp; I strained to hear her words over the screaming baby.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“I can see you are a good mother, trying to do the right thing.&nbsp; Keeping your child safe is right thing.&nbsp; Just take a deep breath.&nbsp; Before you know it, you will be able to stand up again.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">The mother sighed and suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch in the child, the baby stopped crying.&nbsp; The change was so abrupt that my husband reading a book next to me looked up and said:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“What happened, is the baby okay?”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">The baby was okay and so was his mother.&nbsp; The young stewardess walked back to her seat and as the plane took off into the sky, it was completely silent in the cabin.&nbsp; A few hours later, when we arrived at our destination, I saw the family leaving with a happy and calm baby.&nbsp; I marveled over the wisdom of the young stewardess, but also the baby’s reactions to his mother’s emotions.&nbsp; It was obvious that as soon as the mother calmed down, the baby, feeling his mother’s energy change, followed suit.&nbsp;&nbsp; Children, just like horses, are masters at picking up emotional messages, even the ones we don’t know we are sending.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I sometimes wonder how I was able to escape this lesson in horsemanship for so many years.&nbsp; I was, of course, told that horses could “smell fear” a mile away.&nbsp; But, on the same token, I was told to cover that fear up and act brave, even aggressive.&nbsp; As if that would fool a horse?&nbsp; I personally think that this particular piece of advice has caused hundreds if not thousands of horse-related accidents in the world.&nbsp; Horses always know how we feel, no matter what we do.&nbsp; It is when we ignore those emotions in ourselves that horses get suspicious and even defensive.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Just this weekend I was reminded about the mastery of emotional intelligence horses possess.&nbsp; A friend of mine wrote me an email after she had visited my horse with her eight year old daughter.&nbsp; My friend and her daughter had brought a few carrots to give to Little Love, but, when the actual time came to feed the carrots to my mare, who was standing in her paddock close to the fence, my friend’s daughter became scared of the big horse.<br /><br />"Go ahead, it's safe to give Lilo the carrot," my friend urged her little girl who was clutching the carrot in her hand.<br /><br />Carefully, her daughter pushed the carrot towards Little Love through the fence. Soon the carrot was only a foot from Little Love's nose, but instead of taking it, the horse stood stock still, looking at the child with her ears forward. Quickly my friend’s daughter pulled her hand back.<br /><br />"Mom, I'm scared," she said.<br /><br />My friend came to stand closer to her daughter, assuring her again that it was safe to give the carrot to Little Love. Again the little girl brought the carrot slowly towards the mare, until it was right in front of her face. But the mare merely looked at the child and didn’t make an attempt to reach for the treat. The girl pulled her hand away, telling her mom she was too scared to feed the horse. My friend took the carrot from her daughter and brought it toward Little Love in the exact same place the little girl had brought it.&nbsp; My horse, as if seeing the carrot for the first time, immediately stretched her nose out and took it.<br /><br />"I couldn't believe it," my friend wrote in her email. "It was obvious that Little Love could feel my daughter's fear and didn't want to scare her any further by taking the carrot. Now I know what you mean when you talk about emotional intelligence and how horses always know how we feel."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">And don’t they do exactly that, know how we feel?&nbsp; Sometimes they know even better than we do.&nbsp; But we shouldn’t write off our own ability to feel the energy of others, because we all have that ability.&nbsp; Don’t they say that 90% of our communication is non-verbal?&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I am sure all of us have been in the same room with someone who is in a bad mood.&nbsp; Or worse, we know someone who is an eternal pessimist.&nbsp; You feel their negative energy swarming around you, eating away at your good mood.&nbsp; These are the energy thieves of our lives; people who suck away our positive emotions as if they were mere dust bunnies under our couch.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I believe emotions can travel over time and space, that they have no boundaries when it comes to the material world.&nbsp; I haven’t always thought this way, but the more emotional awareness I possess, the more I discover about the power of emotions.&nbsp; To feel someone’s pain, you don’t necessarily need to be in the same space with them.&nbsp; In fact, you could be miles away.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Ten years ago, far before I had ever even heard of emotional communication, a friend of mine had a bad accident.&nbsp; At the time I was thousands of miles away in a different time zone, sleeping.&nbsp; At exactly the time of the accident, I jolted awake.&nbsp; I looked at the clock; it was 1:15 in the morning.&nbsp; I knew something bad had happened and I knew this without a doubt.&nbsp; I dug out my cell phone and placed a call to the other side of the world where it was day time just to hear the bad news.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">This is an extreme example, as it does not always take an accident to “feel” someone from a distance.&nbsp; I have often thought of an old friend or acquaintance, someone I haven’t talked to for a long time, even years, and just minutes later that person calls me or sends me an email.&nbsp; We do it all the time, send our emotions and energy into the universe, without realizing that there are others out there receiving it.&nbsp; That in mind, I ask you the question: what kind of energy do you want to send into the world today?&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">This week I was teaching a new student.&nbsp; She is a very technical rider, who wants to learn more about her seat and how she can be effective on a horse.&nbsp; She was riding a high strung mare, who was trying her hardest to understand what the human on top of her wanted.&nbsp; The mare wasn’t doing too badly.&nbsp; My student, however, was highly frustrated.&nbsp; She had only negative things to say about her mount, a horse that she rode on a once a week basis.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“She is so crooked,” my student moaned for the umpteenth time.&nbsp; “I’m trying to keep my thigh down, but it’s so hard when the horse is not cooperating.&nbsp; It’s so frustrating.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Having listened to her complaints about the horse for quite a while, I finally decided to address the issue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp;“Let’s talk about your frustration for a moment,” I said.&nbsp; “How do you think the horse feels when you feel frustrated?”&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">My student was struggling to stay with the horse’s trot, but she still managed a quick look at me from under her brow.&nbsp; It was a look of confusion.&nbsp; This was only our third lesson together, so she had no idea what to expect.&nbsp; I thought about the young mother on the airplane with her crying baby.&nbsp; Just like her, my student was unaware of how much her emotions were affecting the situation.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I asked my student to transition to walk.&nbsp; I was fairly sure the proceeding conversation would take her out of her comfort zone and we could communicate better face to face.&nbsp; I repeated my question.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“I don’t know,” my student answered.&nbsp; I could see she was thinking.&nbsp; I tried again.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“Why do you think she runs away from you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">My student gave me another glance.&nbsp; She wrinkled her brow. I continued.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“Horses communicate with emotions; they know how we feel and they use that as information.&nbsp; I know you want to have the perfect ride on this horse.&nbsp; But I think your frustration and negative attitude towards her is going to prevent you from achieving this perfect ride.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">My student looked at me quizzically.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“It will never be perfect, because there are so many things that just don’t work,” she said.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“But there are also so many that do,” I pointed out.&nbsp; “I know you are frustrated that you can’t keep your thigh in the correct position, but you did it many times today.&nbsp; Just as this horse was at times not crooked, but straight.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">When my student didn’t respond, I continued: ““She is doing her best, just like you are.&nbsp; In fact, you both deserve a bit of love and appreciation.&nbsp; How about, instead of getting frustrated, you could try a bit of empathy,” I said.&nbsp; “Thank the horse for trying so hard.&nbsp; Send her some love.&nbsp; Appreciate her effort.”&nbsp; I smiled.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">My student looked away.&nbsp; I could tell we were treading through an area in life she was not familiar with.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">“If you want to ride this horse well,” I pressed, “you have to get her on your side.&nbsp; At the moment you are fighting each other.&nbsp; Why not join forces and do it together?”&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Our conversation continued for over thirty minutes.&nbsp; In the end, my student participated carefully, but I’m not sure she truly understood what I was after.&nbsp; She seemed very uncomfortable talking about her emotions and even more uncomfortable talking about the horse’s emotions.&nbsp; But, I strongly believe that once upon a time when she first started riding, these very emotions where the thing that drew her to horses.&nbsp; Perhaps she has never been conscious of that before, but if she continues to ride with me, I will definitely keep asking her to face these important questions.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">A few weeks ago I found the work of Japanese Dr. Emoto by accident.&nbsp; </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">According to Dr. Emoto, an ice crystal of distilled water exhibits a basic hexagonal structure with no intricate branching. Emoto claims that positive changes to water crystals can be achieved through prayer, music or by attaching written words to a container of water.&nbsp; In other words, human vibrational energy, thoughts, words and music affect the molecular structure of water. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Sounds pretty incredible, doesn’t it?&nbsp; Especially when we remember that most of our body is made of what else, but water.&nbsp; I looked at pictures of these ice crystals and marveled over the beauty of how positive words and intent had managed to change the consistency of water.&nbsp; Words like “love” and “gratitude” produced the most beautiful ones when other words such as “murder” portrayed muddled, ugly formations.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Emoto is criticized for going directly to the public with misleading claims that violate basic</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">laws of physics and are</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> based on methods that fail to properly investigate the truth of the claims.&nbsp; I agree, perhaps Dr. Emoto’s experiments are not the most scientific kind.&nbsp; But, on the other hand, how do you measure emotion or intent or prayer?&nbsp; Sounds impossible.&nbsp; We can only choose to believe in their power, even if it cannot be proven scientifically.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> &nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">There is an old Finnish saying: “Niin se metsä vastaa, kuin sinne huudetaan.”&nbsp; The literal translation of this is: The forest will answer as you call into it.&nbsp; In other words, what you hear is the “echo” of your own “voice”.&nbsp; I believe this is the lesson horses try to teach us day after day.&nbsp; They are the mirrors of our existence, they show us who we are and what we feel, not to judge us, but to help us find the correct way to be in this world.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">When I go to the barn to visit Little Love, I go there with the purpose of connecting with my horse emotionally.&nbsp; In her presence I feel a stillness I cannot find elsewhere.&nbsp; I believe this stillness reflects the understanding we have for each other; we have nothing to hide, but everything to reveal, vulnerabilities and all.&nbsp; If I am distracted, the phone rings or my busy life interferes with my thoughts, she disconnects from me immediately and the Zen is gone.&nbsp; So, to avoid this, I try to stay with her, in the moment, to feel the peace I can no longer live without.&nbsp; In fact, every day I hope to take a part of Little Love’s peace with me and share it with the rest of the world.&nbsp; But, compared to my horse I am still a minor league player in this game called emotional intelligence. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">I want to think, however, that if I froze the water in the plastic bottle sitting on my desk, it would freeze into magnificent and life altering ice crystals.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;">Love, ~K</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"> Ps. The above picture is of the frozen water from the Fujiwara dam after Buddhist monks had offered a prayer over the toxic water.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-51910268795103509212011-09-20T09:58:00.000-07:002011-09-20T10:13:19.231-07:00Cookie<div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it.... We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourselves</em>. ~Paracelsus, quoted in <i>The Dream Game</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-If5xaUGZDLI/TnjEgEO7o-I/AAAAAAAAAJA/xsyl0GwEC1w/s1600/KELSO+%2526+COOKIE+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-If5xaUGZDLI/TnjEgEO7o-I/AAAAAAAAAJA/xsyl0GwEC1w/s400/KELSO+%2526+COOKIE+022.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><br /></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was about a year and a half ago when I had the first dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I was riding a brown and white paint bareback.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>As often happens in my dreams, I wasn’t myself, but rather a young Native American girl with black hair down to the waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We were riding in the forest and I could hear the leaves rustling on the path we were taking. When a stick snapped in half under the weight of my mount, I bent over and whispered: “Ssshhhhh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We are hiding.”</span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next time I saw the pony, he appeared in a dream that had something to do with a big hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t recall the details, except that the same brown and white pony was there, hovering in the backdrop of my sub consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Who was this pony?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Why was I dreaming about it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The pony disappeared for a while, but only to show up again months later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Every time I woke up remembering nothing else about the dream except the soft look on the pony’s face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believe dreams have something to tell us, important messages we are left ignored in our waking life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Or, if you believe in past lives, dreams are a vessel that takes you back to the wisdom you learned long time ago, but forgot you ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And sometimes, if you are lucky, dreams help you look into the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I have always been a vivid dreamer; sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling exhausted after what seems like hours of action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Other times I lie in bed and marvel over the insanity of my imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>And then there are times when I open my eyes remembering nothing else but a small lingering detail, almost like remnants of a feeling or a thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn’t know anyone who owned a brown and white paint, but I did know that this pony had something to say to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>When I met horses with similar coloring, I felt drawn to them, as if inherently I was looking for something, or rather – someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I talked to my friend about my dreams, and together we wondered if this pony was someone I had known long time ago, in another life time, or perhaps someone I would once meet, years from now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Whatever the answer, I knew that even if I never saw the brown and white pony in real life, it had made a permanent impression on me through my dreams.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That all said, I would like to share an email I received from one of my readers a few weeks ago.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>------<br /><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>I’m Carol, keeper of 3 beautiful horses who along with our 3 dogs, 2 cats and 3 chickens are my reason for getting up every morning – I do work too but am self-employed as both a travel agent (for the income) and as an equine herbalist (for the knowledge and pleasure).</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>My 3 horses are Kelso, our herd leader, a wonderful gentle gentleman, aged 22, ex-show cob (not in my lifetime) who has been with me for apx 5 years – Kelso is semi-retired, a bit arthritic, a nice gentle plod out when weather conditions permit for him (chronic sweet itch so can’t go out often in the summer as too hot/fly-ridden). Then we have Murphy, now aged 17, and my ‘special’ boy who came to me 10 years ago when I got back into horse ownership following injury which kept me out of the saddle for 8 years – he was my ‘green + green = let’s figure it out between us’ and he is totally under my skin. Finally there’s Cookie, now 11, our adorable native pony who came to us 6 years ago as our daughter’s third pony.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>It is about Cookie that I am sending you this private message because discovering your blog by accident has, I think, given me the answer to my gnawing underlying concern I’ve been going through for the past few weeks.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Cookie is adorable. She’s kind, gentle, sensitive, loving, affectionate. She’s Kelso’s personal grooming slave which is interesting considering he’s almost 16hh and she’s 13.2hh. She stands her ground with her two ‘brothers’ but is devoted to them, as they are to her. Our herd seems very content and happy together.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>My ‘human’ situation is this. Around 3 years ago it became very obvious that our daughter was losing interest in riding and her pony in general. Not because of anything Cookie had done. She was simply losing interest, as sometimes happens – either it’s in you (as it was for me as a pony mad child which has stayed with me all my life – I’m now 53), or it’s not. Husband and I were really upset as our daughter and Cookie had had the most wonderful time together – they’d done a bit of Pony Club, cross country, show jumping lessons, and wonderful family trail rides at weekends. We just couldn’t believe that almost overnight, she lost interest.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Nothing I could do would get my daughter interested. Bribery, punishment, you name it – nothing worked, and so I ended up with a reluctant, pouting, sulky child riding because I forced her too. Eventually I gave up as the whole riding experience made me miserable to the point where I finally realized I wasn’t enjoying it. I resolved to loan Cookie out to a family where she would be ridden and loved.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Cookie lasted 2 weeks with the first family. She was desperately unhappy, didn’t settle, and when the opportunity arose she would bolt across a field and dump the child in the hedge. So Cookie came back home – admittedly it was lovely to have her back because I adore this pony and hated to see her go.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>I found a lovely petite adult to ride Cookie out with me for a short while, so for the time being we kept Cookie moving while I hoped that my daughter would change her mind.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>We then found a wonderful private yard right behind our house so we moved the horses, which meant I lost my petite adult. I advertised for a ‘sharer’ and we found mum Sue with daughter Hollie who absolutely loved Cookie on site. We went out for a lovely hack and Hollie did very well so the deal was done – Hollie would become Cookie’s sharer. Until Cookie decided she didn’t want to leave the boys and go off on her own, and again she bolted across fields and dumped Hollie in the hedge, so that was the end of Hollie.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>After a few months I had a brainwave. Ask the local trekking centre if they could use a 13.2 pony! After all, Cookie came to us from a trekking centre so it would be an ideal environment for her, plenty of pony company, and she’d be ridden! The proprietor said she’d give Cookie a go and picked her up. Two weeks later Cookie was back. Apparently she ‘didn’t settle well’ and despite putting one of her most fearless, competent riders on her, Cookie made her feel very nervous – not ideal for a trekking centre with novice children. I remember thinking at the time that the owner hadn’t given Cookie long enough to settle, but I wasn’t going to leave her there if she wasn’t happy. So Cookie came home again.<br /><br />By now I was started to get the impression that Cookie didn’t want to leave us. We’d tried to find her other riders but each time, and very out of character with her (she’d never bolted or thrown my daughter in all the time she rode her), Cookie came home. I decided that Cookie had spoken, and finally I’d listened – Cookie wasn’t going anywhere.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Again we had a long gap where Cookie wasn’t being ridden. However, she never seemed bothered by it, and on the odd occasion when I plodded out on Kelso I would lead her off the big fella and we’d all get a leg-stretch. She never showed any adverse signs of not being ridden other than getting a bit porky but being a herbalist I manage their environment and supplement them all with appropriate blends to keep them healthy – they’re also all barefoot and we ride bitless.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Then around 4 months ago I found a wonderful sharer, again a petite adult, who adored Cookie, and together they’d go off for hours over the countryside and pop over jumps and have the best time ever. Cookie lost weight, fittened up, and looked and seemed very happy. Then unexpectedly, a month ago we lost our sharer as she suddenly had to move house. Us humans were all devastated, sharer included, and once again Cookie had no rider.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>So this last week I’ve been battling with myself with my head saying ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’, ‘Cookie needs to be ridden’. I finally called a local riding school on Friday asking if she could be useful to them. They came, saw, loved her, and I’m meant to be taking her over tomorrow. It’s only a mile or so away so not far, and the arrangement is that I’ll go over every day to help her settle, and if she doesn’t, she comes home again.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Hurrah! I’ve found what seems like a great home for Cookie, with plenty for her to do, lots of kiddies to love, cuddle and groom her, she’ll get fit and be happy!</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>So here’s my human dilemma. Why, since Friday, when I should be riding on the crest of this ‘I’ve sorted something for Cookie’, have I had an underlying niggle saying ‘no’, and to keep Cookie with her boys and us in our lovely paddock. I seem to have this eternal ‘thing’ in my head that says that Cookie needs to be ridden – why? For her health, happiness, sanity? Isn’t it what ponies are meant to do? Won’t she just get stale and vice-y if she doesn’t ‘do’ anything?</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>So why have I now been worrying all weekend that Cookie won’t settle, she’s told me enough time in the last couple of years that she doesn’t want to leave us . . . and why am I so hell bent on thinking that she HAS to be ridden?</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>My two selves are fighting each other – the sensible Carol is saying, for god’s sake get a grip, it’s a fantastic life for Cookie, let her go there, settle her in, she’ll always be ours, and when she’s older and no longer rideable she comes home to retire. The sensitive, emotional, instinctive Carol is saying ‘no’, it’s another move for Cookie, a separation from her boys and from us, and that’s not healthy, not good for her happiness, not good for her sanity.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Sensible brain/emotional brain – neither one’s winning. Yet now I’m trying to find excuses in my head for not taking her over tomorrow, even though I know there’s no written agreement, no sale, no anything! </em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>So, to bring this all together, I was reading a blog the other day – Thursday, I think, where the blogger mentioned she’d discovered your blog and had spent so much time reading it that her family didn’t get their dinner that night. I clicked on the link, and started reading it. Loved it. Say no more. My family barely got their dinner that night either.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>I haven’t had a chance to read more of it since then until this morning. I’m an early riser (horses/dogs/cats/chooks) – husband isn’t, so my weekend mornings are a nice, quiet, me-moment to go back to bed with a coffee, laptop, plug in headphones with nice soothing music and play blog catch-up. I uploaded yours and read your entire first page from top to bottom.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>When I got to the post ‘To Live Life Backwards’, something stirred in me. Not that your situation was the same as one of mine, but it was the calling of Little Love’s name. I do that with Cookie from a distance. She lifts her head, no matter how far away, and starts walking towards me. Murf does too. It’s special, and makes me feel good and warm and fuzzy. I don’t kid myself that it’s not pure cupboard love, but still makes me feel nice. Fact is, she knows me, knows her name, recognizes my call.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Then I got to ‘Never Forget Me’. Now I started to become aware that this was getting a bit spooky. Blimey, I thought. I was meant to read this. What ifs. What if I sent her to this riding school and in the months to come we passed her on the trails – what if she recognised us, or Murf or Kelso (depending on who I was on) recognised her – what if they started calling to each other, as they do now when I’m leaving/returning to the yard and they’re all calling out to each other? What if Cookie will <b>really, really miss us. </b>Which she’s demonstrated several times in the past that she does.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Then we got to ‘Unmapped Country’. By now I was aware of the spookiness of the coincidence that your blog posts were here especially for me to read. Why does Cookie ‘have’ to be ridden? I can only put this down to some ingrained training or ‘expectation’ that comes with years of riding and horse ownership. This post put everything in perspective to me. She doesn’t ‘need’ to be ridden. No matter what the circumstances, in your blog’s case a scared rider (haven’t we all been there!) which is NOT the case for Cookie, but more my expectation that it’s the RIGHT thing for Cookie. But isn’t her being happy, content, safe, secure, loved and settled in her existing regime with her boys all she wants and needs?</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>I’m so glad I read your blog. Part of me still thinks the riding school is the better option for her as of COURSE she’ll settle – eventually. But the other part of me, having read your blog, now has the majority vote. I’m going to call the riding school today and thank them enormously for their consideration but decline their lovely offer. Cookie stays put, happy in her 4 acres with her boys, and I’ll just keep plodding out with her on occasion with the big boy to give her an occasional change of scenery.</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>To conclude, the Carol insecurity is tightening in my chest and is saying that if after all this, you think I’m terribly terribly wrong, I’d love to hear it! However, in some spooky, ethereal other-universe way, I think I was meant to read your blog, right now, at this time, day and age. I could have been about to do the worst possible thing for our gorgeous, sensitive, loving girl. Or the best. Either way though, she’ll be perfectly happy staying put until I eventually, possibly, maybe, find someone else to come and ride her.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>------<br /><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Tahoma&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don’t know about you, but when I first read Carol’s email, I was rooting for Cookie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I could see this opinionated little mare before me as if she was really there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Cookie obviously deserved to be heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I wrote Carol back immediately, supporting her decision to keep Cookie at home with the boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>When Carol wrote back, relieved I had taken the time to answer, she said</span>: “</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>Cookie must have sensed that I was calmer and back to my 'normal' self after reading your reply - we all went to the yard as a family (a rare thing - usually it's just me), and husband Richard and I were cuddling the girl with Rich by her withers and her head in my tummy. The sun was shining, the air was still and warm. Cookie then turned her head round to Rich and nudged him. The next second Richard jumped up over her back, no prompting from me, and just lay across her. Bear in mind he's a good 13stone-plus, and hasn't ridden for years, let alone lain across a bareback, untacked pony! Very out of character! Cookie remained stock still, very chilled. Next thing Rich scrabbled his legs up and over and sat on Cookie. She stayed looking really happy and calm. Then Rich leaned forward up her neck and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a big cuddle. He stayed there for ages, just cuddling our girl. 'Are you comfy?' I asked. 'Yes, really comfy,' he said, and grinned the biggest grin at me. 'I've never sat on Cookie before.' 'I know!' I replied. It was a lovely moment. Then he slid off and we were all back to normal.”</em></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Carol also attached a picture of Cookie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>When I opened the file, I cried out loud; Cookie looked exactly like the pony from my dreams!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>The strange thing was that I had somehow known this all along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>From the moment I started reading Carol’s first email, I had imagined Cookie to be a brown and white paint. I had never met Carol, nor did I know if she would think I was completely crazy, but I felt a need to tell her about my dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I wasn’t sure how she would react, but it ddn't matter, I just had to share my experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>She said:</span>&nbsp;"...<em>here's my freaky back to you. Don't know why but I somehow felt that you'd connect with Cookie - I felt a real need to email her photo over to you…it's quirky how life pans out, but this great big universe of ours is a whole lot more powerful than we can even begin to understand!”</em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Carol was certainly right about the universe part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can’t tell you for sure if Cookie is the pony I had seen so many times in my dreams, but I do know that I haven’t seen her since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Did Cookie and I connect months before I connected with her owner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I will never know, but I have a strong feeling that something out of the ordinary happened here. Or, on second thought, is this something that occurs all the time, but we just happen to miss it? I do believe we are all connected over the vast universe by the energy between us. In my case this connection used to be something I was not aware of, but slowly, as I have connected more and more with horses, I have also discovered an uncanny ability within myself to “know” things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There are so many things I cannot even begin to understand about the aptitude we posses, but I do know I want to understand it further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Why does heeling by prayer/manifesting seem to work? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>How can I sometimes feel other people’s emotions, even if they aren’t with me at the time? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span>How does my energy affect others; people, animals, plants?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Can we balance the bad energy in the world by adding more good energy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>If I think of someone I haven’t seen for a while, can they feel it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Do things happen for a reason?</span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wanted to share Cookie’s story because it awakened so many question in me.&nbsp; I hope it does the same for you.&nbsp;&nbsp;We may not know the answers&nbsp;– yet, but what I do know without a doubt is that our souls are more powerful than we can ever imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span></span></span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">~K</span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thank you Carol for allowing me to post a picture of Cookie and share your eloquently written story about this amazing pony!</span></div><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">PS. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have been writing this blog for two and a half years and one of my favorite things to do is to read the comments people leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Occasionally I receive emails from people who have felt a need to comment personally on what I have written.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Many of these letters have moved me to tears; the heartfelt stories of the authors and their horses are often powerful and charged with emotion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>When I started writing this blog, I never imagined it would offer me this sort of a connection with people I have never physically met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It proves to me that even if sometimes we may feel lonely in our thoughts and beliefs, we are never completely alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>There is always someone else in the world, experiencing something similar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Thank you for reading (and writing)!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br /><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Black horse wisdom is felt more deeply than it can ever be explained…It champions knowledge rejected by the mainstream: instinct, emotion, intuition, sensory and extrasensory awareness and the human-animal partnership often associated with tribal cultures…It is an innately pure, nonjaded, spirited, yet immature, source of knowledge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It has been neglected for so long that it initially lacks the ability to interface directly with the modern human mind.”</span></em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>- Linda Kohanov<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br /><div class="ecxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 16.2pt;"><br /></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-48719233944129530562011-08-15T11:03:00.000-07:002011-08-15T11:05:39.291-07:00The Flower<span style="font-size: large;"><i>An essay about Time, Teaching and Treasures</i></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zF-Mr87yiZc/Tkle0T54qZI/AAAAAAAAAIg/tO05rGKCoAY/s1600/sunflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zF-Mr87yiZc/Tkle0T54qZI/AAAAAAAAAIg/tO05rGKCoAY/s320/sunflower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: &quot;Georgia&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;;"><i>"The clock talked loud.&nbsp; I threw it away, it scared me what it talked."</i>&nbsp; ~Tillie Olsen, <i>Tell Me a Riddle</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Last spring I ran into an old student, who had recently bought herself yet another horse.&nbsp; She invited me to come and give her a lesson, “for old time’s sake”.&nbsp; This I knew meant that she had run into problems with her new horse, as I had never known her to ask for a lesson with me unless the other trainers she rode with had failed to help her.&nbsp; I agreed, mainly because I was curious, but also because I felt that I had never really been able to reach the woman in terms of helping her understand her horses.&nbsp; She had always been very set on the traditional way of training.&nbsp; She had goals for herself and her mounts; therefore she wanted results and she wanted them fast.&nbsp; But, behind all this there was something else, something waiting to be ignited; she had, after all, periodically sought lessons from me.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">When I arrived, she had the new horse tacked up.&nbsp; He had just turned four years old and was standing obediently in the middle of the indoor arena.&nbsp; I noted the drawreins hanging on the horse’s neck.&nbsp; I knew immediately this was the real reason I was there to give the lesson. My student read my thoughts.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I know I know, I shouldn’t use drawreins, but I just have them for security.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Security,” I repeated and gave the gelding a horse-human handshake by extending the back of my hand out and letting him sniff it.&nbsp; There was something very touching about how he approached me, as if he was surprised I had acknowledged his presence.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“He is normally really calm, but then suddenly, without any reason, he goes completely crazy.&nbsp; He lifts his head up and takes off.&nbsp; I just can’t have that.&nbsp; It’s dangerous for one thing.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I nodded, looking at the horse. The phrase that had caught my ear was “without any reason”.&nbsp; There was always a reason.&nbsp; But I didn’t say that out loud, because I knew that such a statement would surely end the conversation.&nbsp; Nobody wants to hear that they are incompetent in interpreting their horse.&nbsp; At least not point-blank within the first two minutes of the conversation.&nbsp; I would get there later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;“And does this occur every time you ride him?” I asked.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“No, that’s the thing, I can never know when it’s going to happen.&nbsp; One day he’s perfect and the next he flips out.&nbsp; That’s why I have the drawreins, so I can stop him if he goes nuts.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I see,” I said and stroked the neck of the young horse listening to him play with the bit in his mouth.&nbsp; It made a jingling noise, something I had never paid attention to years ago, but which now sounded as loud as a church bell.&nbsp; So many messages were hidden in every little thing that took place in a horse-human interaction, even in something as commonplace as this noise.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I asked the woman more questions and found out that the gelding only had these episodes in the arena, never on the trails.&nbsp; In fact, on the trails he was apparently “an angel”.&nbsp; Also, the fits never happened while longing or long-reining, only under saddle.&nbsp; The saddle had been checked, the osteopath had been consulted.&nbsp; Even the vet had been out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“He does it with the trainer, too, and she’s a good rider,” the owner concluded.&nbsp; “So, it’s not just me.”&nbsp; She sighed and looked sad.&nbsp; “In the beginning he was the perfect horse, but now…&nbsp; I don’t know, maybe I should sell him.&nbsp; Or what do you think?&nbsp; Do you think he can get over this?”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I closed my eyes.&nbsp; When people use the expression “perfect horse”, something stirs inside me, even though I don’t know how many times I have used that very same expression myself. &nbsp;&nbsp;Sometimes I believe I teach students such as this lady just because I have a need to repent my past.&nbsp;&nbsp; Facing your old self over and over again can turn into a sort of cathartic experience.&nbsp; It also helps in defining the line between the person you were before and who you are now.&nbsp; I searched for the right words to say, words that would sink in, instead of blow over.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Perhaps he feels he is being pushed beyond his limit,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">My student shook her head and looked at her horse.</span><span lang="EN-US"> “Yeah, but my other young horse never does this and we push him way more.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“But perhaps this guy needs a little less pushing and a little more time.&nbsp; We are all different.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The lady looked at me and wrinkled her brow.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“But he’s a horse,” she said.&nbsp; &nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Yes indeed, he was a horse. &nbsp;A breathing and feeling sentient being. &nbsp;I could see the wheels turning in the lady’s head.&nbsp; She shrugged.&nbsp; “We don’t have time,” she said.&nbsp; “I was planning to enter him in some young horse classes this summer.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Here’s another thought,” I continued, ignoring her comment about the competitions and not having time.&nbsp; I didn’t know if this was the perfect moment to share my earlier thoughts, but I had to go for it or the moment would be lost forever.&nbsp; “What if you don’t look at this behavior as bad, but instead see it as a means of communication.” I pointed at her young gelding. “What do you think he is trying to tell you and your trainers?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“What do you mean?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I’m just saying that there is always a reason why a horse behaves a certain way.&nbsp; They are not trying to be naughty, but rather trying to tell us something. ” I stroked the gelding’s neck.&nbsp; “It is your responsibility to figure out what the message is.”&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I could see that I had perhaps gone a bit far.&nbsp; The lady looked very confused and perhaps a bit offended.&nbsp; I decided to commence the lesson and come back to the subject later.&nbsp; Sometimes, when you really challenge someone’s belief system, they shut down to all information.&nbsp; I didn’t want to ruin the opportunity to awaken this woman’s budding realization of how to understand her horse.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">But something my student had said kept playing in my head; “We don’t have time”.&nbsp; What was it with our current society’s growing obsession with getting everything made for them on the spot?&nbsp; What ever happened to perseverance?&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Ironically around the same time I gave this lesson, I was learning about perseverance myself.&nbsp; Little Love, my horse, has several traits that most people would call “deal breakers”, were they considering to buy her.&nbsp; One of her long time issue has to do with her inability to enter small spaces, such as a trailer.&nbsp; I, too, was faced with this problem when I bought her in the beginning of the year.&nbsp; As I fought with her in the pouring rain for nearly two hours, I thought to myself: “Never again”.&nbsp; I swore on the spot to work on the issue, giving it time, actual real time, to help Little Love get over her fear of the trailer.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Luckily the place where I moved had a trailer, and not only that, but a trailer that opened from both the front and the back, so the horse could walk through.&nbsp; This gave me the perfect opportunity to help Little Love with her fear.&nbsp; The starting situation was grim; if the ramp was down, Little Love was immediately agitated and anxious, as if she was anticipating something bad to happen even if I never asked her to approach the trailer.&nbsp; &nbsp;She needed something she had never truly gotten when it came to trailers and that was Time with a capital T.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Giving my horse Time took some training on my side.&nbsp; I, too, have a long history in an equestrian culture where you must produce results and fast.&nbsp; I had seen all kinds of people from “horse whispers” to natural horsemanship trainers load problem horses.&nbsp; All those methods were based on some sort of pressure and force, and were geared towards making the horse a perfect loader in a set time frame.&nbsp; “Look, I can load the unloadable horse in less than 30 minutes!”&nbsp; A few years ago it had appeared to me that those horses were “perfect” loaders.&nbsp; It wasn’t until later that I understood that it came with a price.&nbsp; Did I want my horse to be bullied into a trailer?&nbsp; Definitely not.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I decided to merely expose my horse to the trailer several times a week. &nbsp;But I couldn’t help myself; I asked her over and over again to come on to the ramp with one foot.&nbsp; Despite my good intentions, I was still falling into the trap of trying to get immediate results.&nbsp; No matter how much I swore I had no time restraints or goals, it wasn’t true; I subconsciously hoped for progress and tried to push for it.&nbsp; I also noticed my own heightened anxiety every time my horse approached the trailer.&nbsp; Not only did my horse need time to learn to go into the trailer, I needed time to learn to let go of the “trainer” within.&nbsp; I decided to always ask only twice and accept the answer, whatever that was.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I won’t lie: I was happy when a few days later my mare was comfortable with standing on the ramp with her front feet.&nbsp; I was encouraged about her progress, immediately visioning the next step and then the next. &nbsp;But then I stopped myself.&nbsp; What was I doing - again?&nbsp; I looked at my horse as she backed off the ramp on her own.&nbsp; I didn’t interfere.&nbsp; I’m sure this broke the basic rule of most trainers in the world, for I too had been drilled since childhood to “never let the horse have the last word.”&nbsp; But I realized that perhaps this was exactly the way to go.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I stopped leading my mare to the trailer, but instead let her loose in the vicinity.&nbsp; This gave my horse the opportunity to choose for herself.&nbsp; She started walking to the trailer confidently, instead of anxiously.&nbsp; She still only put her front feet on the ramp, but I told myself the rest would come later.&nbsp; But it didn’t.&nbsp; I put a bucket of food inside the trailer, but for days and weeks Little Love merely stood on the ramp.&nbsp; I actually started to give up ever getting her inside without force.&nbsp; Talk about perseverance... I kept on going.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Then one day, she walked in.&nbsp; Just like that.&nbsp; I didn’t lead her in, but rather opened the door and let my horse choose to go in.&nbsp; From that day on, she always went in when I opened the trailer.&nbsp; Slowly we started practicing standing in the trailer instead of just walking through.&nbsp; When I closed the back bar for the first time, she walked out the open front, knocking the grain bucket over.&nbsp; I didn’t try to stop her.&nbsp; I had finally realized what it meant to “take time”.&nbsp; It wasn't only about the time, it was also about what I did with that time.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">In the course of three months, I had a horse that would load by herself and trailer without sweating.&nbsp; Were we done learning?&nbsp; Hardly.&nbsp; But my horse was learning to accept the trailer and I was learning what it meant to empower your horse.&nbsp; I was also learning lots of things about what it meant to take time.&nbsp; In the meanwhile, our bond became stronger and changed our relationship to the better.&nbsp; It also changed me.&nbsp; I am not in any rush now when it comes to horses.&nbsp; My only wish is to convey this message to the world: if you take time, you stumble upon invisible inner treasures you never knew existed. &nbsp;But how do you convey a message to people who are not ready to hear?&nbsp; This was my problem with the lady who owned the young gelding. &nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She called me back two weeks after our lesson.&nbsp; The lesson had gone well from my point of view, but afterwards I was fairly sure I would never hear from this woman again.&nbsp; Many things had surfaced during the hour and all of them had something to do with the ethics of horsemanship.&nbsp; Should she push this horse past his limit?&nbsp; Should she listen to him and see his “fits” as means of communication?&nbsp; Could she look at her own riding and admit how much her own tension, her baggage and her expectations were affecting this sensitive animal and his reactions? Could she resist the urge to sell this “imperfect” animal and instead find the time to work with him?&nbsp; Needless to say I was encouraged to hear her voice on the other end of the line.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I’ve really been thinking,” she started the conversation, “that you may have a point.&nbsp; I think we are pushing this horse too much.”&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I smiled at my cell phone.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I’m happy you have been doing some reflecting.&nbsp; I could see at the end of our lesson that you were quite confused and perhaps unhappy.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Oh yeah, it was bad.&nbsp; I went home and cried.&nbsp; I was depressed for days.&nbsp; But I needed to do that to really see what was going on.&nbsp; The problem is now my two trainers.&nbsp; They think I’m crazy.&nbsp; They think the horse should just be shown his place, that they should force him to comply at any cost when he has his fits.&nbsp; Last time they rode him, they fought with him for two hours.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Remember, he is still your horse,” I said.&nbsp; I know I sounded calm and matter of fact, but I wanted to scream.&nbsp; I don’t believe anybody wants to be violent towards animals; it is just the old traditions, the way equestrian sports have evolved, that make people unable to see anything wrong with what they are doing.&nbsp; Hadn’t I been one of these people a few years ago?&nbsp; How could I judge them now?&nbsp; I knew anger would get me nowhere.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">&nbsp;“I know it’s scary to stand up to professionals in this field, but I really advise you to go with your gut feeling. &nbsp;You are an experienced enough rider to ride him and teach him the basics.&nbsp; Then you can do it on your own terms.&nbsp; Or rather, the terms of your horse.”&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Yeah,” my student said at the other end of the phone connection.&nbsp; “I actually told the trainers we should take a break.&nbsp; I think the gelding needs some time.&nbsp; And I need some time to think.”&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I took a deep breath.&nbsp; This is what I had been hoping to hear.&nbsp; Tears sprung to my eyes, but they were happy tears.&nbsp; Ever since I parted onto this other path, the Path of the Horse, I have experienced a variety of emotions.&nbsp; Mainly there has been a lot of sadness as my heart aches for the things I have done in the past.&nbsp; But there is also another ache, the ache for the present as there are so many horses in the world that suffer abuse on a daily basis.&nbsp; Teaching riding is becoming increasingly harder for me, but it is moments like these that make it worthwhile.&nbsp; I commended my old student for making the decision.&nbsp; This particular horse needed probably more than a break, but a break was a step in the right direction.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I believe each horse is perfect in their own right.&nbsp; If your dream for your horse does not align with reality, perhaps it is time to either adjust your dream or the methods you are using to achieve the dream.&nbsp; We talk about taking time with horses, either giving them the time to learn or the time to adjust.&nbsp; But have we ever stopped to think what this really means?&nbsp; What, for example, is enough time for a young horse to learn the basics of riding or to load into a trailer?&nbsp; Two hours?&nbsp; Two months?&nbsp; Two years?&nbsp; A life time?&nbsp; When it comes to any learning, is there ever really an end station, or is it rather a long, long track that continues for our entire life?&nbsp; Why do we always want to ride the bullet train instead of taking the man-powered trolley?&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Months later I heard my student had gone back to the trainers.&nbsp; This was no surprise.&nbsp; Most people go back to what they know; the other alternative is too scary.&nbsp; I can’t say I wasn’t disheartened by this news of my old student and her young gelding, because I was.&nbsp; But I also was hopeful that whatever happened between us during that last lesson was still present in my student’s heart; that the seed I planted remains somewhere under everything. &nbsp;You never know, it may vegetate in her heart for years only to sprout into a real plant one day; a flower that blooms so spectacularly that it will lead her off the beaten path.&nbsp;&nbsp; And that is exactly where those invisible inner riches reside, off the beaten path.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I have decided to hold on to that image of the flower, as there are days when that is the only thing that keeps me teaching.&nbsp; And it is important to continue teaching for so many reasons. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">~K</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><i>“We cannot teach people anything; we can only help them discover it within themselves.”</i> – Galileo Galilei</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-9394570610378690842011-06-27T14:27:00.000-07:002011-06-27T14:27:46.025-07:00Quicksilver<em>“Once your awareness becomes a flame, it burns up the whole slavery that the mind has created.”</em> <br />- Osho<br /><br /><br />Today, when a friend and I were visiting a small farm house with a few horses, we met a man who had an Argentinean Criollo. The sturdy little gelding was absolutely beautiful, but eyed us suspiciously from the moment we entered his range of vision. His owner was grooming the horse and I immediately noticed how slowly and deliberately he was moving around him. Before the man could really say anything to us about his horse, my friend marched over to the paint which was tied to the wall of the farm, and pushed both of her hands into his face, rubbing his forehead vigorously. <br /><br />“You are so cute,” she said loudly and then proceeded to energetically pet the animal’s neck. I winced at the gesture, even though I used pet horses in the same near violent manner some years ago. The horse stood still, but a barely noticeable quiver of panic went through his body and his eyes bulged in his head. I wanted to physically pull my friend away, but at that moment the owner of the horse interfered. He took a step closer to his horse, wedging himself slightly between my friend and the animal.<br /><br />“This is Arizona. He is quite sensitive and not so sure about people,” he said. <br /><br />You would think this would have deterred my friend, but she is not one to take hints. Perhaps this is the very reason she seems to have zero ability to read horses, a trait that will undoubtedly one day get her into a lot of trouble. She pushed her hands back into the horses face and this time Arizona backed away, visibly scared. Finally my friend stopped touching the gelding, but still didn’t back away. She turned to look at me, still clueless. <br /><br />“He is so cute, isn’t he?” She said, with a broad smile on her face.<br /><br />It was obvious that my friend was not at all aware of the fact that she was frightening Arizona. Nearly every time we are around horses together, I have witnessed behavior from her part which is either dangerous or disrespectful to the horse. Heaven knows I have tried to address these issues, both diplomatically and less so, but with no luck. She does not seem to understand what I’m saying and my good intentions end in awkward silences and blank looks. <br /><br />I have come to realize that no matter how hard I would like my friend to change her behavior around horses, I cannot force this change. A person cannot change something of which they are not aware. This is perhaps the first lesson I learned 30 years ago when I started teaching vaulting and riding as a young teenager. Since then, it has always been awareness that I strive to bring to my students. When they see what is happening, when they feel their own mistake, they can start realizing the consequences of their own actions. When I was still teaching traditional riding, it didn’t seem to take long for my students to catch onto what I pointed out. Everything was one-dimensional; the rider pulled on the reins unintentionally – the horse slowed down. The rider kicked the horse too hard – the horse scooted off. But now… bringing people’s attention to the subtle cause and effect patterns they are stuck in with their horses is one of the hardest things to do. It is especially difficult when the person in question is not ready to enter such a state of consciousness. <br /><br />And even when we think we have all the awareness in the world, holding onto it may be the hardest thing we ever do. We are only human and can sometimes make human sized mistakes. Being aware of our place in the universe, of our actions and the impact we have on every living being is like holding quicksilver in the palm of your hand. This deeper level of consciousness escapes us when we least expect it, slipping away just when we think we have it trapped completely. To catch that moment, to return back to that world that is separate from our human world, is like catching quicksilver: one must have quite a bit of patience and motivation and perseverance. Lucky for us humans, horses have all three. I don’t think they will ever cease to bring us back to any given lesson over and over again, until we get it. And this means that perhaps one day my friend, too, will learn to become more aware of her own personal cause and effect .<br /><br />Over ten years ago, when I was still a vaulting coach, I met a horse called Designer Socks. Socks was an interesting character to say the least and anyone who had the privilege to know him can testify to this. This was a horse who couldn’t speak the human language, yet he spoke volumes of what he liked and disliked, what he wanted and what he didn’t want. Because of this, he had a reputation of being difficult. In fact, when I met him, I called him that myself. Now, in hindsight, I realize that there really is no such thing as a difficult horse, there are just opinionated ones. And then there are truck loads of ignorant humans. Which perhaps is the reason some horses choose to be so animated; they would never get through to us otherwise. <br /><br />I can’t say I was always quick to catch on to what Socks was pointing out, but he was relentless; he would spell his message out until even a hardheaded equestrian like myself got the picture. And once I allowed myself to listen to Socks, he taught me more than any horse before him had, opening my eyes to so many things. <br /><br />Socks was extremely sensitive and particular. He would perform beautifully under saddle, but only when he felt like it. If you pushed him too much, he exploded, becoming hotheaded and hyper within seconds. And once he got that bee in his bonnet, there was nothing - short of stopping everything at once- that would calm him down. To ride this horse you had to know him and work with him. And it was the same when it came to vaulting on him. Socks willingly participated in vaulting, but only under one condition: that we did it his way. Forget training a routine for hours; forget running through a team freestyle program several times at the canter. Oh no. The team could have one go at it and then Socks was done. If the vaulters were having a particularly bad day (which meant they were imbalanced or sloppy), he wouldn’t give them even that one go. Which, to think of it, was completely fair. Why would Socks have to be at his best, when other (human) members of the team weren’t? <br /><br />Sometimes Socks’ messages were extremely subtle and encoding the meaning behind certain behavior would take me more than a few tries. Take for example the issue with the sunglasses. As we were living and practicing in California, there was a lot of sunshine. Coming from Finland, my eyes were especially sensitive and when summer came around, I wore sunglasses nearly all the time. Socks, however, didn’t like this one bit. He this behavior very suspicious, especially when I was lunging him on a circle for vaulting. In the spring, it took me a while to realize it was the sunglasses that had caused the change in him. Once I removed them and Socks could see my eyes again, he was back to his normal self. After that day, I have avoided using sunglasses around horses altogether.<br /><br />I have since realized that there are many other minor details in the human behavior that can bother horses; hats, perfume, body lotion, laundry detergent - to mention a few. I have noticed that my horse Little Love definitely acts different when I have lathered myself in a body lotion with a strong scent. The first time this happened a few years back, she flared her nostrils and moved away from me, as if I was a stranger. Now I make an effort to never use scented lotion before going to the barn, and have switched to an ecological, scentless laundry detergent in her behalf. Luckily I was never one to wear perfumes in the first place!<br /><br />Last week, when I was spending time with my mare, Little Love, I received a call on my cell phone. The caller was a young boy whom I had had the privilege to coach in floorball on and off for the past few years. I had seen this boy, now a teenager, grow from a beginner into a skilled athlete. Weeks before all his hard work had paid off and he had been invited to try out for a regional team. This in itself had been big news, but I knew he was calling to tell me the results of the tryout camp. <br /><br />“Hello,” I answered and saw Little Love, my mare, pin her ears back. Distracted, I ignored the gesture and continued brushing her, holding the phone to my ear with my other hand. I was hoping to have enough time to go out for a walk and I was a bit pressed with time. I moved around her briskly, at the same time listening to what the young boy had to say at the other side of the phone conversation. <br /><br />Little Love pinned her ears back several times and she stomped her foot; she swished her tail and yanked her foot out of my hand when I was picking the hooves. At that point I should have had the sense to walk away from her, but since I was more focused on the phone conversation, I kept on working around her. And it was a long conversation. By the time I was done talking on the phone, Little Love was tacked up and ready to go. But she didn’t seem ready mentally. Somehow, during the grooming and tacking process, she had become irate and nervous. She stood tied to the grooming rail with her nostrils flaring and her head held high. I could see the whites of her eyes and she paced nervously. <br /><br />I looked at my horse impatiently. What in the world had gotten into her? Seeing she was anxious and overly energetic, I decided to take her into the arena first, to assess the situation before venturing out. The weather had changed two days earlier and now that the rains had set in, the temperature was much lower. Perhaps the change in weather was causing this behavior? That day was also fairly windy, which I immediately pegged down as another cause for Little Love's "irritation". Obviously I didn't have the brain space at that moment to think very creatively. <br /><br />In the arena I asked Little Love to trot on the long rope. She literally looked at me and sighed, then started trotting around me with a sour face. A funny feeling filled my chest, as if I had forgotten something important. At first I thought I was feeling nervous about going out with Little Love on such a windy day, but soon realized this was something else. I looked back at what we had done together so far and that was when the thought hit me in the head like a ton of bricks: the phone.<br /><br />How would you feel if you were having dinner with one of your best friends and in the middle of your time together, she would suddenly start talking on the phone, completely ignoring you, yet continue eating her dinner, as if nothing was wrong? I’m sure you would be hurt – at least I would. I would also feel annoyed and neglected. I would probably want to walk away from the situation.<br /><br />When we are with horses, we must be with them 100% or not at all. This is a lesson Little Love has taught me over and over again. Staying in the moment is paramount. But of course when you are on the phone, staying in the moment becomes impossible. I believe I knew that already, but somehow had forgotten it. Yet again. Obviously it was time for me to "relearn" it that day. <br /><br />The realization of how rudely I had just treated my friend came over me like a huge wave. <br />"I am so sorry," I said out loud to Little Love. "So, so sorry. I can't believe I did that to you." <br /><br />She licked her lips. I swear she was thinking: "Well duh, finally you have a clue!" I am a slow learner at times.<br /><br />I have been thinking about Socks a lot lately. I can now see that he had more lessons in store for me than I was able to handle at the time. Perhaps I was a bit like my friend is now, like an elephant in a china shop. And I still have a long way to go. Perhaps that is why Little Love came along the way, to continue the work Socks started. I don’t know if this work will ever be completed, but I sure am trying to be the best student possible and catch that quicksilver. Like they say: the teacher will appear when the student is ready, and I’m definitely ready now. <br /><br />What comes to that windy day last week when I was talking on my cell phone… After I realized my mistake and sincerely apologized for it, it was as if a switch went off in my horse. She stood by me calmly and all signs of nervousness were gone. We walked out through the barn gate and took a long walk on the trails in the cool summer weather. The strong wind didn’t bother either one of us, quite the contrary, it kept the bugs at bay when we stopped in the middle of the emerald field to graze on the tall, abundant grass. And again, I felt like I was holding that infamous quicksilver in the palm of my hand for a short, glorious moment. <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>“The mind, this globe of awareness, is a starry universe that when you push off with your foot, a thousand new roads become clear, as you yourself do at dawn, sailing through the light.”</em> ~RumiKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-53704452560636892612011-05-25T04:48:00.000-07:002017-11-15T00:40:06.283-08:00Embrace the World Within<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HUtnVWS_Jm4/Tdzq1EUT0PI/AAAAAAAAAGk/y4pkPVvWN3I/s1600/sittingwithbramble.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HUtnVWS_Jm4/Tdzq1EUT0PI/AAAAAAAAAGk/y4pkPVvWN3I/s400/sittingwithbramble.JPG" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Last week I attended my second Epona workshop ever. Two years ago, when I plunged into the Epona world of authenticity and emotion for the first time, the experience blew me away and left me a changed person. Although I had been around horses nearly all my life, their capacity to know my deepest secrets caught me by surprise. I was awed by their emotional intelligence. <br /><br />Going into this second experience, called Accessing Authenticity, was very different. This time I would attend the workshop with Melissa, my best friend. I also wanted to believe I had evolved emotionally in the past two years. But, I also knew that whatever my expectations were, they would pale in comparison to the reality. I was right. I may have been prepared for the wisdom horses have to offer, but their uncanny ability to look into my heart and see what nobody, even myself, had not seen before still does not seize to amaze me. <br /><br />Perhaps the most revealing of sessions happened with Bramble, a white pony that I felt drawn to from the first time I saw her. It wasn’t her outer appearance that interested me (although she was very cute!), but rather this feeling that she had a message for me. So, when we could choose the horse for our reflective round pen session, the choice was really not mine, but Bramble’s. <br /><br />I have to mention that last time I did reflective work with a horse in the frame work of an Epona course, my biggest problem was the interference of my head. Most of us have this problem; our thoughts and rational thinking get in the way of what our body and soul is trying to tell us. It is not the easiest task to shut this “voice of reason” off. In fact, it is what Linda Kohanov calls The False Self that often runs our life, giving us no time or space to really feel who we are. Social conditioning, self-judgment, assumptions of others, our need to seek approval, our critical and controlling beliefs are all different ways for the False Self to interfere with our intuition, our Authentic Self. <br /><br />With this in mind I approached the round pen; I was determined to shut off my False Self and give room to whatever was to come, no matter how irrational or confusing this information may be. The object of the exercise was to treat all emotions, images, words or whatever else appeared as valuable information. This was not about succeeding or achieving a set goal; this was about being in the moment and really listening.<br /><br />Standing outside the round pen and facing away from Bramble, I started with a body scan. Silently, with closed eyes and my arms hanging loosely on my sides, I “scanned” my body for feelings of pressure, pain, heat, cold – any sensation really. I was immediately drawn to the feeling of pressure around my throat and chest. It was not a painful feeling, but rather felt as if I had a heavy blanket wrapped around me, pressing on the front of my shoulders. Through this pressure I could feel my heart beating in my chest; a strong, clear rhythm, as if standing there required physical effort. I asked myself what was the message behind this feeling and received a picture of myself holding a large ball. When I focused on that image, I could feel my heart beat dissipate into the rest of my body, still pulsating, but with less vigor. This was a sign that I had understood the message my body was trying to tell me. Without questioning this perhaps confusing information I ordinarily would have dismissed as “stupid” or “weird” (A ball? Makes no sense. Why was I holding it? etc.), I turned around and looked at Bramble. She was standing in the round pen, staring at me intently with her ears forward. I closed my eyes again, opening my mind to any other images or messages that would come from the horse. <br /><br />Immediately, as if I was watching a powerful dream, I had a vision of a very small door. It was in the middle of a stone wall far, far away. I had a strong feeling I was supposed to go through the door, but I could see it was closed. I silently asked Bramble what this meant, could she possibly help me? When I opened my eyes again to look at her, I knew she had the key to this door. <br /><br />Rosie, the facilitator, asked me what was going on. I filled her in. She nodded and said:<br /><br />“Do you feel like you need more information on what this is about or do you feel ready to go into the round pen?”<br /><br />This is the brilliance of being part of the Epona method. I’m fairly sure nothing I said could have fazed Rosie. I had told her about my images about the ball and the door, and in any other context this would have made no sense whatsoever. Imagine trying to explain this to a stranger; I would have sounded crazy. And perhaps you, too, now reading it, are thinking I have lost my marbles once and for all. But it all felt natural. I was confident and relaxed going into the round pen.<br /><br />I walked over to Bramble and gave her a horse-human handshake, extending the back of my hand out for her to touch. Then I stepped back, closing my eyes. Immediately I was taken back to the image of the door. I asked Bramble what I should do with the door, did she have the key? <br /><br />“No, no key,” she answered, “The door is already open.” <br /><br />And she was right, for in that moment I saw the whole wall split open. Suddenly I realized that I was holding the ball again, it was enormous and my hands barely reached around it to steady it on my chest. But now I saw it was not a ball after all, it was the Earth; I had the entire world in my arms. I held onto it tight as I stepped through the wall, towards light. <br /><br />And that is when I understood what Bramble was trying to help me understand. For some months now I have been planning a move to Finland. Despite this move being a choice that I made with my husband, I have been extremely anxious about the decision. Should we have decided to go to California instead (this is where we lived before Switzerland)? Are we taking a risk going to Finland? What if it doesn’t work? What was there really in Finland for me? In the midst of the logistics of the move, the concrete, everyday tasks, I had not allowed myself to truly reflect on my true emotions concerning the move.<br /><br />I was filled with a strong sense of knowing, which I cannot even begin to describe, as words have their limitations. I realized I had lived in Switzerland for six years, but had never truly been happy there. Why? This question has gone unanswered until that very moment in the round pen. I have met many wonderful people in Switzerland, people whom have made a definite impact on my life. But, despite these friendships, I feel strongly disconnected from the world around me. This probably partly stems from the fact that during my years in Switzerland, I have gone through some major changes in my life, searching for the right path with horses and myself as a person. In other words, I feel separate and detached. <br /><br />Moving to Finland is an opportunity to change this. In Finland I will be welcomed by a group of close friends, but also a larger network of like-minded people with whom I have connected long distance over the years. For the first time since I left California six years ago, I have the opportunity to be part of a true community; to be supported and accepted as who I am. The realization of this was profound and I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. Hope for the future was restored. In fact, as my eyes were still closed, I saw the enormous globe I had been holding slowly sink into my chest, as if I was swallowing Mother Earth itself. And isn’t this true? Community is not something outside of us, but rather an internal phenomenon that we cherish and that connects us to others. Instead of seeing myself as someone roaming the earth looking for answers, I needed to embrace the world within. <br /><br />I had been squatting down on the ground, but now I stood up and opened my eyes. Bramble was looking at me quizzically with her wise, beautiful eyes. I stepped to her side and said a silent thank you. She touched me with her nose and the air was filled with gratitude. Then she walked to the gate as if to say “my work is done.” Which it was. <br /><br />I left the round pen with a newly found peace. Life would be alright, I would be alright. Why had I not seen this all before? I had been so focused on getting myself, my horse, my family to Finland, that I had not taken the time to stop and realize what moving back to my home country really meant to me. When I returned to my chair and recapped the round pen experience to Rosie and Melissa, I became very emotional, but in a good way. The tears that surfaced were tears of relief and joy and hope, tears I should have shed a long time ago, instead of bottling them deep inside. <br /><br />Intuition is perhaps the most important piece of our genetic makeup. Unfortunately it is usually the first piece we lose, when life gets the best of us. Most people ignore their intuition. Actually, most people wouldn’t even recognize their intuition, even if it hit them in the head (which it often does…). Animals, such as horses, operate in the world using their intuition, their sixth sense of “knowing”. Often I think that our ability to speak is what stifles our innate knowing of what we need, what is right for us, and only us. The great French writer, Gustave Flaubert, wrote about this in his first novel, Madame Bovary, when he said that “…the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; the human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.” <br /><br />I left England and the Epona course with a better sense of knowing. I felt more at peace than I had for a long time, more in my body rather than in my head. So often, especially in a time of turmoil, my head takes over and I am plunged into a destructive pattern of frantic thinking. I am not saying thinking is a bad thing, but enough is enough. Sometimes we need to stop and take tally of what we really feel and where those feelings are coming from. What are those feelings telling you? What is the message of your intuition? What does your heart desire?<br /><br />I believe that if we open ourselves to life, life will flow freely into our bodies and we will be able to feel the present moment more deeply. Yes, this can be scary at times, as often there are emotions within us that are not comfortable. But each emotion is a pool of information. If we learn to treat our feelings as messages from our heart, our lives can have so much more meaning. <br /><br />I thank Bramble and all the horses in the world for not giving up on us humans. You seem to always be ready to help us the moment we are ready to receive the help. I don’t think I can ever understand this gift you have, but I know I will admire it forever. <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Wild Geese </span></strong><br /><br />By Mary Oliver<br /><br />You do not have to be good<br />You do not have to walk on your knees<br />for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.<br />You only have to let the soft animal of your body<br />love what it loves.<br />Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.<br />Meanwhile the world goes on.<br />Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain<br />are moving across the landscapes,<br />over the prairies and the deep trees,<br />the mountains and the rivers.<br />Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue air,<br />are heading home again. <br />Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,<br />the world offers itself to your imagination,<br />calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - - <br />over and over announcing you place<br />in the family of things. <br /><br /><br /><br />To learn more about Rosie and her courses, go to <a href="http://horsesasteachers.co.uk/">http://horsesasteachers.co.uk/</a> <br />To learn more about Epona, go to <a href="http://www.taoofequus.com/">http://www.taoofequus.com/</a>Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-60784895011129429022011-04-26T13:31:00.000-07:002011-04-26T13:31:33.659-07:00To live life backwards<em>“When written in Chinese the word ‘crisis’ is composed of two characters – one represents danger and the other represents opportunity.”</em> - John F. Kennedy<br /><br /><br />It was an ordinary day, apart from the fact that I was in a hurry; I was leaving for a trip the next morning and still had a lot of packing to do. When I arrived at the barn in the late afternoon, I did my usual chores. The horses had been outside all day enjoying the sunshine, but as I was finishing up with the evening feed, they showed up. I looked at my watch; it was only 5 pm. I had done the chores faster than usual. Should I take the horses out for a quick ride or should I go home and pack? I chose to ride.<br /><br />I tacked up my friends gelding.&nbsp;His&nbsp;owner&nbsp;was gone on a business trip and as usual had asked me to ride. Since I was leaving for a few days myself, this was my last chance of doing this. I slipped a halter on my mare and climbed on the gelding while my mare waited patiently next to him; she knew the drill already. <br /><br />We crossed the busy road without incident and headed through the field to take our normal “short loop”. When we made it to the other side I hesitated for a moment, but then took a left instead of the usual right. Going to the left meant a longer ride, but less cars, less commotion and a safer ride – or so I thought. <br /><br />When we entered the forest, I took a sharp right up the hill, planning to cut through the trees to the other side, pass the single farm on the left, descend the hill and return home through the field. Perhaps there would be a chance to get some trot in on the long rise through the forest.<br /><br />We passed a lonely car parked on the side of the road. I peered into the old Fiat and saw a young man leaned back in his seat resting his bare feet on the dashboard while smoking a cigarette. I’d never seen a car on this particular road and neither had the horses, but they didn’t seem to care. <br /><br />I directed the gelding onto the soft part of the otherwise paved road and my mare followed in hand. We started trotting up hill. I could smell the pine trees as the sun rays beamed through the branches. Both horses made relaxed snorts and I could feel the geldings relaxed muscles working under the saddle. <br /><br />I don’t know where the cow came from, but it seemed to materialize from thin air. It stood on top of the hill and looked like it had been waiting for us to come out of the forest. It was white and stood majestically on the side of the road in a solid frame. <br /><br />The gelding stopped in his tracks. My mare followed suit. Neither horse was in particular afraid of cows as the gelding had lived most of his life on a dairy farm and my mare in the close vicinity of one. But despite this history with the bovine, I could feel the gelding’s heart pounding in his chest and between my legs. I glanced at my mare on my left. She was alert, but not fearful.<br /><br />Previously, when I had taken the two horses out together, I had encountered much scarier things than this white cow. The gelding was a relatively brave soul, but when in doubt, he froze in place, refusing to move until he felt the coast was clear. I respected his choice and never tried to force him forward as that merely resulted in vigorous resistance. <br /><br />When the situation calls for it, I always dismount and walk the frightened horse past the scary object. My mare, who is not the bravest soul under saddle, seems to have unquestionable trust in me when I’m on the ground. This, when we are out all together, in turn helps the gelding, who snaps out of his frozen position and follows my mare. <br /><br />So, short of any other ideas, I dismounted.<br /><br />The very second my feet touched the ground, something happened. Perhaps the cow moved or made a noise. I don’t know, because I was busy coming off the horse. Whatever it was, it made the gelding do something very unusual to him, but not unusual to horses; he turned around and ran. <br /><br />He rammed into me, toppling me over. My mare was only a fraction of a second behind his movement. I held on to the reins only long enough to realize that holding on was not going to help. I could only watch, helplessly, as the two horses gained speed on the downhill slope.<br /><br />What went through my mind? I saw my mare slip and fall; she went almost completely down, skidding across the pavement while she was scrambling back to her feet. How she managed to get up within just fractions of a second I could not fathom. I watched in disbelief as the two horses disappeared around the bend. Instinctively I ran after them, thinking about the busy road between that moment and the barn. I have never felt so powerless, so utterly incapable of controlling the future as I did then. <br /><br />Next thing, I saw the young man we had passed earlier racing up the hill towards me in his beat up red Fiat. He stopped on my side, his windows rolled down. <br /><br />“Hey,” he shouted over the noise of the engine, “are you alright? I saw the horses.”<br /><br />“Yes, I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Can you help me?”<br /><br />He nodded and pushed the door open. I was barely in the seat when he was already peeling down the road, following the horses.<br /><br />We all know the brilliant wisdom of hindsight; knowing exactly what we should have done, but didn’t. Should have could have would have. I can’t tell you how many times I have gone through the events of that particular day in my head. Why did I ride the gelding that day? Why did I take my mare with us? Would it have made a difference had I been alone with the gelding? Did I come off because I genuinely thought I could get the two horses past the cow or did I come down because my instinct told me this was the safe thing to do? If I had stayed in the saddle, could I have stopped the panic fed frenzy of this large animal? Or, would I have gotten seriously hurt in the process? <br /><br />There are so many questions to which I will never know the answers. Oh, how I wish I could turn back time.<br /><br />But unfortunately time does not work backwards. There are many things you can redo in life; a math test, your kitchen paint job or even the nose you inherited from your father. But, no matter how hard you try, you cannot turn around time. So, when mistakes are made, the only option is to deal with the situation and hopefully later learn from it. <br /><br />So many things went wrong that day. However, on the same token, so many things went right, as well. <br /><br />The young man drove to the bottom of the hill where I had entered the forest. There was not a sign of the horses and I prayed they had taken the sharp left towards home instead of going straight where the big road loomed in the distance. I held onto the dashboard as we took the turn in the little car, my heart racing in my chest.<br /><br />We drove down the road on the side of the field and immediately saw the horses in front of us. They had slowed down to a trot, but were still moving at a brisk pace. How could we stop them before they took the last leg through the field towards home and the big road? I didn’t know. <br /><br />The man slowed his car down, obviously fearful of further upsetting the horses. I told him to hurry, as I knew what would happen next. And I was right. Suddenly the gelding took a sharp right down a tractor path that led directly to the horse pasture on the other side of the busy road. I looked up and saw cars whizzing by at high speeds. No, I thought. No. Anything but the road where drivers coming around the blind turn would not have time to stop. Horses would get hurt. And not just horses, people, too. <br /><br />The man looked at me frantically. I watched the horses a good 30 yards away trot towards the traffic with their heads high, their step determined; they wanted to go home. I wanted to scream at them, I wanted to beg them to stop. I also wanted to take back the past hour of my life and start all over again, with the right choices. <br /><br />Short of better ideas, I did the one thing I could think of; I stuck my head out of the car window and called my horse. <br /><br />“Little Love!” <br /><br />Even to my own surprise, my voice didn’t sound desperate, nor did it sound panicky. It sounded just as calm and hopeful as it did when I called her in from the field to eat dinner. <br /><br />“Little Love!”<br /><br />And that is when it happened. My black mare, who had been trotting beside the gelding, stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. The gelding stopped, too. And against all odds, time seemed to stop, too. I hung out of the car window and the horses stood still in the middle of the field. For a very long second the three of us merely stared at each other. Then the horses blew air out of their noses and lowered their heads to eat grass, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. <br /><br />And just like that, the situation was over. <br /><br />The young man stopped his car on the side of the road and I got out, my whole body shaking from both adrenaline rush and relief. I walked down the field to the horses and both touched me with their noses, visibly relieved to see me.<br /><br />Neither horse was seriously hurt. Little Love had some scrapes down her side from the fall and the gelding was stiff at the shoulder, but both horses healed miraculously within a week. The traffic on the road went on uninterrupted. The man, who helped me, drove off to continue his day and undoubtedly tell his friends about his adventure catching two runaway horses. And I… I was in one piece, unharmed physically. Yes, my rider’s ego was crushed and the embarrassment I felt over the episode was colossal, but I had also lived to tell the tale. <br /><br />When I look back at the events of that day, my primary feeling is failure. As someone who has been involved with horses for over 30 years, it is hard to accept that with all the knowledge and experience I possess, I still managed to get myself in a dangerous situation involving two horses. What did I learn? That I was starting to be overconfident in my dealings with horses? Perhaps I needed to be reminded that really, there is no such thing as control, when it comes down to it. Perhaps it was time for me to learn to be humble. And more cautious. Is this how people become afraid of horses? Will I ever be able to relax on a trail ride again? <br /><br />I have been out since, walking my mare in hand and have to say that the first time we passed a herd of cows I was more on edge than usual. And so was she. But maybe she was nervous only because I was nervous. I can already feel the ramifications of history taking hold of the future. I remind myself that horses live in the here and now; if it is not happening now, it’s not happening. But despite my efforts, my human brain keeps returning to the events of that day. Was the ultimate lesson of all this merely to show me how vulnerable I am in the face of these big animals? Or was the lesson something even more profound; that no matter what happens, I must learn to trust, over and over again?<br /><br />Perhaps with time thinking back can help me see what really is important; the relationship I have with this particular horse, with Little Love. Sometimes bad things happen and illusions of perfect harmony are broken. But, in the meanwhile, if we can see the good from the bad, hope is also restored. <br /><br />I have a feeling that years and years from now, I will still recall how it felt to watch the two horses canter away at full speed. But, I know for sure that I will never forget the moment when I called the name of my beautiful black mare and - after all that had happened - she stopped in her tracks to look at me. <br /><br />Gratefully, <br /><br />K<br /><br /><em>“Nobody gets to live life backward. Look ahead, that is where your future lies.”</em> - Ann Landers<br /><br /><em>“Having harvested all the knowledge and wisdom we can from our mistakes and failures, we should put them behind us and go ahead.”</em> - Edith JohnsonKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-14358752674663812692011-03-27T13:58:00.000-07:002011-03-27T13:58:11.420-07:00Never forget me<em>Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave</em>. ~A.A. Milne <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TmzSG_kBhIc/TY-f8_QumQI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UWP4Bakg5Ik/s1600/4thweek.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TmzSG_kBhIc/TY-f8_QumQI/AAAAAAAAAFk/UWP4Bakg5Ik/s320/4thweek.JPG" width="240" /></a> <br />Last year, when my horse Little Love was not yet mine and she was still living at a large commercial stable, something interesting happened. At the end of the summer the owners of the barn bought a new horse for their teenage daughter. The big, brown gelding arrived from Germany and was immediately put into the routines of the barn. <br /><br /><br />After the gelding had been at the barn for about three days, I noticed a difference in Little Love’s behavior. The first time it happened it was morning, when all the horses went outside in their separate runs. I was walking her up to her allotted pasture strip when she called out in a clear and high pitch whinny. I hadn’t heard her say a peep for months and her loud voice caught me by surprise. Her head was up high and she took a few trot steps, peering to her right at the pastures reserved for the barn owner’s four horses. <br /><br />I heard a whinny coming from the first pasture and saw the new gelding trot to the fence, his eyes fixed on Little Love. She stopped in her tracks and spun around, staring at the gelding. A soft nicker erupted from her throat; low and melodious it sounded as if she was singing. I had never heard her talk like that and when the gelding answered in an equally beautiful tone, low and bubbly, as if he was laughing, I could only smile in wonder. <br /><br />I didn’t think much of the incident, until the next day when I drove to the barn and saw the gelding standing in his pasture at the fence and staring keenly at the barn. When I passed in my car, saw Little Love’s head poked out her stall window. Ears up and nose forward, she was looking at the gelding. What was going on? <br /><br />At first I thought perhaps it was the novelty of a new male horse entering the barn, but as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. It was not unusual for horses to come and go at this facility, as it had over 35 stalls with privately owned horses. And why would Little Love feel drawn to this particular gelding when there were four stallions living in the barn? And even when she did express interest towards the stallion, it was never anything like this. There was something special about this gelding. <br /><br />I asked the owners where he had come from, but it didn’t tell me much as I also was not completely familiar with Little Love’s past. But I did know that she had originated from Germany, just like this gelding. As the weeks turned into months, I watched as the gelding stood vigil in front of Little Love’s window until it was closed for the winter. Once, when the new barn worker messed up the turn out schedule, Little Love ended up in someone else’s run, next to the gelding. Oh the joy of the reunion! There was no amount of electricity that could keep the two from touching each other. They sniffed over the fence and when Little Love peed it sent the gelding into a wild gallop up and down the fence. Unfortunately this behavior was frowned upon and the turn out schedule was resumed in the correct fashion. <br /><br />It was obvious that the two horses had a connection. And not just any connection; I was convinced they had known each other before. But it had been 9 years since Little Love had left Germany where the gelding had been bought from. Could it be possible that the two had met in their youth and remembered each other after so many years? Who was he and what had he meant to her then? Had they shared an experience? I was fascinated. <br /><br />How good is the memory of a horse? In a study led by Evelyn Hanggi, MS, PhD, co-director at the Equine Research Foundation (ERF) in Aptos, Calif., horses that had been tested on recognition and advanced learning abilities as many as 10 years earlier were able to repeat the same tasks with a nearly perfect level of accuracy without having to learn the skills again. Not only were the horses able to remember the specific objects learned years ago, they were able to apply those previously learned rules and concepts to never-before-seen objects years later.<br /><br />Just recently ethologist Carol Sankey of the University of Rennes and her colleagues tested how well 23 horses remembered a female trainer and her instructions after she and the horses had been separated up to eight months. Although the time lapsed in this study was significantly shorter than the one done by Hanggi, and results were similar – horses have good memories. The added twist to this research was the fact that some of the subject horses were trained using positive reinforcement and others using none. The researchers concluded that the “horses trained without reinforcement expressed four to six times more 'negative' behaviors, such as biting, kicking and 'falling down' on the experimenter." Also, after the 8 months of separation, the horses trained with positive reinforcement gravitated towards their old trainer, rather than other people. They also seemed to accept other humans more willingly than the other subject horses that had not received positive reinforcement during training. <br /><br />Studies such as the ones mentioned above, often focus on learning and the animal’s ability to remember what it has learned. But what about horse- horse relationships? Will a foal remember its mother for as long as it lives? Do buddies stabled together recognize each other after years of separation? You only have to do a search on the subject on the internet to believe that they do, as it seems like almost everyone has a story to share about happy horse reunions. And not just horse reunions, but horse – human reunions as well.<br /><br />Little Love is now my horse and she lives at a very small barn in the country side. It is the first time in ten years that she has the opportunity to have a social life with another horse. Her friend Col is a Danish warmblood gelding who loves Little Love at least as much as she loves him. Watching the two horses spend time together is my favorite past time, as you can visibly see the friendship and the caring emanating from the two. <br /><br />But, as much as I enjoy the relationship between the two horses, it also makes my heart heavy. In a few months my family will be moving to another country and naturally I will be taking my beautiful Little Love with me. How will the two horses cope with the separation, a separation that will most likely last a lifetime? What right do I have to even think of separating them? <br /><br />Horses form life lasting relationships, but only if we allow them to do so. My thoughts are with all the hundreds of thousands of horses that are sold yearly all around the world. Some have been with their peers for years and get uprooted in a moment’s notice; some travel around the world and never have a moment to form a lasting bond with a horse or human before they are sent off to the next barn. And then there are those that live in such pain and suffering and stress that they don’t even have the emotional capacity to&nbsp;connect with another living being.&nbsp; Just the thought of that makes me want sit down and spend a moment remembering all the hundreds of horses that have passed through my life, many of them which gave me many valuable experiences.&nbsp; Was I, too, someone who gave them a good moment in time, a positive memory?&nbsp;If we met again, would they remember?&nbsp; Would they even want to remember?<br /><br />I have two dogs and I would never dream of selling them to a soul. Nor would I dream of separating them for any reason. Most dog owners would think you crazy, if you asked them to sell you their dog. Dogs are family members. Why do we treat horses so differently? Is it because they don’t live with us, sleep in the same house with us, follow us around, that we consider them more distant, not worthy of the same level of bonding, of love? And how much does monetary value play a part in our feelings or the lack thereof?<br /><br />I once knew someone who sold her horse to another continent after owning it for over a decade. It was a phenomenal horse and helped his owner become a respected competitor and trainer. She had acquired the horse as a foal and trained it single handedly up the dressage levels. When I heard she had done the unthinkable, I at first could not believe it; what had possessed her to sell her dressage partner? I’m not sure the owner could even believe it herself when she watched her long time friend load on a truck and leave. <br /><br />The horse flew across the ocean to his new home, but already during the long trip, he fell horribly ill. The vets worked as hard as they could, but the gelding would not get better. Finally, as a last resort his old owner flew to see him, to help heal the gelding’s high fever and lost appetite. She stayed with him for a week and he recovered from his physical symptoms, but the underlying broken heart was probably never cured on neither person nor horse. <br /><br />I, too, once sold my horse, the only one I ever owned before Little Love. I can’t say I sold him without a second thought, because it did affect me, and still does even if I owned him for only a short while. At that time, it seemed like the logical thing to do, given that I was moving overseas. I soothed my guilty conscious by telling myself he went to a good home, which he did. I have seen him since and each time we meet I can’t help but wonder why I didn’t try harder to keep him with me. But even when I wonder, I know. It was more convenient to exchange him for well-needed cash. Ironically, most of the money I received for his sale was still sitting in my bank account until a few months ago. It was as if I was waiting for something important enough, worthy enough, to come along before my conscious allowed me to touch the money. Or perhaps I knew in my heart that someday, six years later, I would need it to buy another horse, a horse that I did not want to leave behind. <br /><br />How much do we really know about the emotional lives of horses? Not much. But we know they are sentient being with vast emotional landscape, perhaps even more complex, but certainly different, than ours. I may never find out how Little Love knew the big, brown gelding at her old barn, but does it matter? They know who they are and where they met and I am sure they rejoiced in the fact that they were lucky enough to meet again. I hope that in the years to come I can introduce Little Love to many more horses, horses that will stay in her life for years to come, some perhaps for the rest of her life. Like me. <br /><br />As what comes to Little Love and her current friend Col, only time will tell. I am selfishly going to take my mare with me to our new home, because this time I am not ready to sell my horse. In fact, that is no longer an option and never will be, because truth told, she is not really mine, but rather I am hers. <br /><br />~K<br /><br />Some interesting links: <br /><br />www.equineresearch.org - more on equine research<br /><br />http://horsehints.org/StudyMemoryDiscovery.htm - an interesting article about horse’s memory<br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOgtI23xqXE - a heartwarming video of a woman and a horse who meet for clicker training after 7 years of separationKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-81531649745213386512011-03-11T12:45:00.000-08:002011-03-11T12:45:32.654-08:00Naked Flesh of Feeling<em>How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling.</em> ~Claude Debussy<br /><br /><br />Do animals have emotions? <br /><br />Having been involved with animals all my life, I have no doubt in my mind that they do. If you own a dog, cat, horse or any other animal, you know what I’m talking about. Animals are intelligent and feeling individuals; they know things that are not visible to the naked eye, often more accurately than us humans. But it wasn’t so long ago that the majority of people denied the existence of animal emotions. In fact, skeptics remain, many whom draw their conclusions from the lack of scientific proof; consequently the emotional lives of animals has not been researched much in the past mainly because researchers thought there wasn’t anything to study in the first place. Luckily research has evolved and proof is emerging from the woodworks of the scientific world. I guess at this point the question is not if animals have emotions, but rather what kind of emotions do they have. <br /><br />Author and ethologist Marc Bekoff provides evidence of animals having emotions in his book, <em>The Emotional Lives of Animals</em>. The following story is an excerpt from his book:<br /><br />“A few years ago my friend Rod and I were riding our bicycles around Boulder, Colorado, when we witnessed a very interesting encounter among five magpies. Magpies are corvids, a very intelligent family of birds. One magpie had obviously been hit by a car and was laying dead on the side of the road. The four other magpies were standing around him. One approached the corpse, gently pecked at it-just as an elephant noses the carcass of another elephant- and stepped back. Another magpie did the same thing. Next, one of the magpies flew off, brought back some grass, and laid it by the corpse. Another magpie did the same. Then, all four magpies stood vigil for a few seconds and one by one flew off.”<br /><br />Often pet owners who say their pet is happy or sad or mischievous or sorry are accused of giving animals “human” emotions. This practice, also known as anthropomorphism, is widely criticized, and for a reason. as often it is connected to disturbing behavior such as dressing your dog up in human clothes or punishing your horse for something that happened long time ago because “he knew what he was doing.” But when it comes to feelings, why should humans have the monopoly on emotions? Look at the story of the magpies; how can you possibly interpret the behavior of the four magpies in any other way than through emotional vocabulary? The birds were obviously mourning the loss of their conspecific; they were sad. <br /><br />Recently, I read the book <em>Second Nature</em> by animal behaviorist Jonathan Balcombe and <em>Wild Justice</em> by Mark Bekoff in which they explore the emotional and intellectual lives of animals. Even though I have been a big believer in animal emotions for quite a while, I don’t think I had quite understood the depth of the subject. It was fascinating to read scientific proof of emotions in creatures big and small. We often think that for example animals such as fish or rodents don’t have much going on in terms of intelligence or feelings, but turns out they can have feelings like empathy for each other. Mark Bekoff recounts a study made with rats, where caged rats were taught to press a level for food. Once this behavior was set in, however, the scientists added a twist; when the rat pushed the lever to get the food, another rat in the cage next door received an electric shock via the metal floor. What did the rats do? They stopped eating. Some individuals were known to starve themselves for as long as 14 days. I wonder how humans would “excel”to starve themselves in this sort of an experiment… (I also find it sickening that this was a study on rat empathy, but the empathy of the human researchers seemed to fail as they subjected other living beings to such cruel experiments…)<br /><br />Jonathan Balcombe in particular writes eloquently about animal empathy, an emotion non-animal people often dismiss as solely a human emotion. But anyone who has ever been close to a horse when they have needed a friend, might know the capacity they have for empathy. And not just empathy, but unconditional support. <br /><br />Two years ago I participated in an introductory workshop of the Epona method (check out my blog from June 16,2009 Lessons from a Horse’s Heart). At the end of the three day course, I felt like I was at the core of my true self, all my emotions were raw and real. Our very last exercise was an individual session with a horse that was assigned to us by the psychologist. My horse was Geo, a young paint gelding with whom I had worked with before, but had failed to find a deep connection. I was last to go and when it came my time to step up to have a private talk with Kathleen Barry Ingram, the facilitator, I was shaking with so many feelings I didn’t even know where to start unwinding them. It had been a long weekend observing others fall apart and collect the pieces as they made an attempt to re-establish themselves and I felt like an outsider in many respects. There were so many other people at the course who had real problems, people who deserved and needed&nbsp;the help of the horses and humans there. I, on the other hand, felt like I often feel; that I was there to support others instead of to receive support.<br /><br />I approached the round pen where Geo was grazing at the other end completely disinterested in me. Kathleen pulled me aside and asked how I was feeling. I shrugged.<br /><br />“I really feel like I don’t belong here,” I said. “All these other people are battling such major emotional issues and traumatic pasts. I don’t have that. They need this, they need the support.”<br /><br />“So you feel like you don’t deserve to have that?”<br /><br />“Yeah, I guess so. It’s always like this, you know, I hold up everyone else, but it’s only because I don’t need holding up. Kind of like there is a big pie and everyone else gets a big slice. In the end there isn’t much left for me. But that’s okay, because I don’t really need the pie.” I looked at Kathleen. “Do you know what I mean?” <br /><br />Kathleen nodded. “But you know what? You deserve your own piece. You deserve this time, this sacred space of possibility. You deserve support, too.&nbsp;Look at all those people.” She motioned towards the 20 odd students sitting in their chairs, ready to observe my interaction with Geo. “They are here for you. Maybe you don’t feel deserving of their time, but they are here, nevertheless.” She motioned at Geo. “And look at that horse.” I looked at the horse, he couldn’t have looked less interested in Kathleen and me. “He is here for you.” She pushed on my back gently. “Now go and see what he has to bring to the table.”<br /><br />I opened the gate to the round pen and walked in. Suddenly my hands were shaking. And not just my hands, but my whole body was quivering, as if it was a little blade of grass in a storm. Geo didn’t move, he didn’t as much as look at me. I started crying. I don’t know why I was crying, but there was an unstoppable wave of sorrow and sadness inside me that erupted to the surface so suddenly that I couldn’t stop it. I started sobbing, something completely uncharacteristic to me. <br /><br />Overwhelmed by my emotions, I stopped about ten feet away from the grazing Geo. The last thing I wanted to do was force my emotions on him. Tears were flowing down my face, I don’t think I have cried like that since childhood. I looked at Geo and wanted to leave, to just run out of there and hide somewhere. But just then he lifted his head and looked back at me. Then he turned and walked over. He stopped in front of me. I was still sobbing and it felt like the top of my head was going to explode, the pounding was so strong, so blinding that I closed my eyes. An ache grew in my chest and even though I wanted to clutch my hands to it, I let my arms hang at my sides, exposing myself completely in front of this horse.<br /><br />Geo lifted his nose and pressed it to my chest. I could feel him breathing into me. I could also feel something else, a strange sensation of lightness, as if this horse I barely knew was sucking the irrational sadness out of me like an enormous vacuum. I opened my eyes and Geo moved his nose to my forehead and performed the same exercise there, sucking away my pain, pulling it out of me and sending it off into the universe. <br /><br />I stopped crying. Geo took his nose off my forehead. I swear the look on his face was playful. He grabbed the cloth of my sleeve between his lips and pulled on it. Come now, he seemed to say, let’s be done feeling sad. <br /><br />Without thinking I turned and started running down the round pen. Geo squealed and took off at a canter, bucking and romping around like the teenager he was. I laughed out loud. I don’t think I have ever felt so alive and so light, like I could have perhaps taken off in flight. We ran another round and then Geo stopped to graze and I walked to the gate. The whole interaction had taken perhaps four minutes, but it had been an intense four; he had given me exactly what I needed, his time and his support – his empathy. I came through that gate with a new respect for horses as sentient beings.<br /><br />Exploring animal emotions brings us face to face with many ethical questions; perhaps the real reason humans have so reluctantly studied this subject. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right? If we admit to animals being sentient beings with rich emotional lives, how do we possibly justify the way we treat them? What does the current treatment of animals tell us about ourselves? I for certain think about this question on a daily basis. Do we have the right to use horses for our own pleasure? And how do they feel when we do? For thousands of years we have assumed an inferior role over nature and other animals. Perhaps it is time for us to notice and acknowledge animals as who they really are; subjects of their own lives, living and feeling beings<br /><br />Geo and the other horses at the Epona workshop exposed the very essence of horses. Ever since I had this experience, I have not been able to stop seeing the hidden meaning behind each horse-human relationship I encounter. When we are initially drawn to horses, perhaps it is not the action of riding or training or driving or grooming that touches us so deeply, but rather the soul of the animal we are connecting with, or rather, who is connecting with us. Horses, even the ones that live under stressful conditions, have the capacity to emotionally heel humans. Often we don’t know this when we meet them, but the potential is always there. Horses are altruistic; they give selflessly, even when the human is not paying attention. <br /><br />In his book <em>Second Nature</em> Jonathan Balcombe tells so many touching stories of animals caring for each other, working together, striving to understand each other, seeking comfort from each other – even in the most surprising situations. I want to share one particular story with you, because it perhaps demonstrates the capacity that animals can have for empathy, even across species. This is a story about Washoe, a chimpanzee. <br /><br />Balcombe writes: “… Beatrice and Allen Gardner of the University of Oklahoma taught American Sign Language to Washoe. When Beatrice became pregnant, Washoe became more attentive than usual and regularly asked questions (using sign language) about the baby. Washoe had had two pregnancies of her own, both of which had resulted in the infants’ deaths. When Beatrice returned after an extended absence, Washoe acknowledged her return but was aloof. The teacher explained that she had had a miscarriage and signed to Washoe: “My baby died.” Washoe looked at Beatrice and signed “Cry”, then signed “Please person hug” as Beatrice was leaving.” <br /><br />Sometimes there are no words for what we feel when we are with our animals and it is because emotions are beyond words. In fact, spoken language can even block being able to feel and read the emotions of others. Perhaps that is why animals are better at it than us humans are, they are used to communicating nonverbally. My written account of the moment with Geo doesn’t do justice to what really happened, because there are no words to truly describe the matters of the heart. All I can say is that I wish to connect again and again to that sacred place he opened up in me. <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>“It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English – up to fifty words used in correct context – no human being has been reported to have learned dolphinese.”</em><br />- Carl SaganKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-36553465194707811222011-02-18T13:38:00.000-08:002011-02-18T13:38:52.392-08:00Unmapped Country<em>There’s a period of life when we swallow a knowledge of ourselves and it becomes either good or sour inside.</em> - Pearl Bailey<br /><br /><br />I used to give lessons to a student I’ll call Sarah. I taught Sarah regularly for a year on a once a month basis. She was a petite woman, and a very tense and serious rider. Sarah owned a horse called Daniel, a beautiful chestnut warmblood with a playful twinkle in his eye. Daniel was not an easy mount by any standard; not only did he have physical issues, but he was also very sensitive with a low threshold for outside stimulus. In other words, he was a horse with what people call a spooky nature. <br /><br />The importance of building a relationship with the horse on the ground before riding is crucial and I had tried to encourage this sort of activity in Sarah’s case as well. Sarah, like so many other riders, however, was relatively set on just riding Daniel, because “why have a horse if you can’t ride it?” <br /><br />Why indeed? I could have given her at least ten reasons, but unfortunately just telling a person about the complexities that lie in a horse-human relationship will not make them a believer; they must find that path for themselves.<br /><br />In the beginning of one of our last lessons together Sarah walked over to me with her horse and said: “He’s acting crazy and has been for the past few days. I’m really freaking out. I think it’s just a game. I know he’s really not afraid, he’s just playing with me.” <br /><br />I looked at Daniel, who was fidgeting on the other end of the reins, constantly looking around. I could see there was so much more to the situation that initially met the eye. Sarah looked at me in desperation. <br /><br />“I’m so angry at him, I just want him to stop messing with me like this.” <br /><br />Daniel startled at a noise he heard outside the arena and Sarah jerked on the reins, making the bit clunk against her horse’s teeth. Daniel’s eyes rolled around in his head and I could see the whites flashing like warning lights. Every muscle fiber in his back was tense.<br /><br />“Yesterday I rode him on the trails and I got so scared I had to come off his back. He was still crazy. It took all the strength I had not to start hitting him with the whip. I wanted to kill him.” Sarah yanked at the reins again and slapped Daniel on the chest with the end of her whip as if to make her point clear. I could see she was at the end of her rope. I suggested we talk about all the emotions that she was experiencing, especially the anger that seemed to dominate her actions. After a long talk, Sarah was ready to admit that she was actually very insecure and afraid, but these feelings would manifest themselves as anger.<br /><br />“Do you think it’s fair to Daniel to ride him when you are going through all these feelings?” I asked.<br /><br />Sarah looked at me quizzically. “Probably not,” she said and smiled sheepishly. <br /><br />We talked for a little longer and the more Sarah revealed her true feelings, the more relaxed her horse became. I pointed this out, gently suggesting that perhaps the emotions running high in Sarah were partly responsible for Daniel’s state of mind. I also suggested we forget the riding and work on dealing with the emotions on the ground, but Sarah wouldn’t hear of it. Instead she said: “Can you ride him for a while?” <br /><br />I had ridden Daniel before, but only in the bitless bridle, which was what Sarah usually used. She told me she had put the bit in Daniel’s mouth again because she was convinced she would have more control with the bit. I shortly explained that the bit would just add to Daniel’s panic and asked her to get the bitless. Sarah ran to get the bridle, while I talked with Daniel. The gelding looked at me with wise eyes. I knew he had a lesson to teach his owner, if she would just stop and listen.<br /><br />Once I was sitting on Daniel, I walked around for five minutes simply breathing and relaxing, and soon Daniel followed suit. In the very beginning he spooked twice, but I left him alone, rather giving him reins when he was afraid, instead of trying to hold him, which I knew would make him panic more. As I rode around, Sarah watched me ride from the middle of the arena. <br /><br />After a while I stopped and approached her. She looked at me in bewilderment. <br /><br />“You know what? It’s not a game. He was really afraid in the beginning.”<br /><br />“You’re right,” I said. I was happy she had made that observation on her own. Daniel blew air out of his nostrils and chewed. I could nearly hear him saying the words “Thank you.” <br /><br />“I saw that when he was afraid, you gave him rein, instead of trying to stop him or control him. It’s almost like you allowed him to have his fear and then he wasn’t so afraid anymore.” Sarah shook her head. “It’s the exact opposite of what I always do.” <br /><br />I nodded. “Your reaction is normal. We want to be in control, but by trying to hold a frightened horse, you will just make him freak out more.” I looked at Sarah. “I like how you said I allowed him the fear. Could you allow yourself the same thing?”<br /><br />Sarah hesitated, but then nodded. She looked up at me. “Maybe I should ride now, I feel better about it after seeing you ride.”<br /><br />I nodded, even though I would have liked to talk more with Sarah about her fears. But sometimes it’s best to wait, especially when people are still just discovering their emotions.<br /><br />“Let me get my helmet,” Sarah said and started to walk toward the benches at the door. Daniel followed her spontaneously and although I was still sitting on his back, I let him. <br /><br />“Look at him,” I said. Sarah turned. <br /><br />“I know,” she said. “He always follows me around. He really trusts me on the ground.” <br /><br />“Perhaps that is something to think about, Sarah,” I said. She nodded, but didn’t look at me.<br /><br />She got on and gathered the reins, but before she walked off with Daniel, I touched her thigh. <br /><br />“You know how you said Daniel trusts you? This horse believes in you. Perhaps you need to believe in yourself as well. “Our eyes locked. “And in him.” <br /><br />Sarah didn’t say anything. She asked Daniel forward and I talked to her about breathing and trying to really feel Daniel underneath her. Suddenly I saw tears streaming down Sarah’s face. <br /><br />“Are you okay?” I asked. <br /><br />She nodded, unable to speak. <br /><br />She picked up a trot and Daniel responded beautifully, his head lowered and his back up. And so Sarah rode around and around for ten minutes, tears streaming down her cheeks, but with a smile on her face. Daniel got scared a few times from the noises outside the arena, but Sarah was able to loosen her grip on the rein, take a deep breath and settle him back down. I watched him moving around, carrying Sarah on his back and I thought: “Who am I kidding? I’m not the teacher here, I’m merely the guide who leads people to see the real teachers – the horses.” This horse, bless his heart, was slowly guiding his owner down a certain path whether Sarah liked it or not. Some day she would hopefully analyze her own fears and how her horse was reacting to them, but at the moment Daniel had given her something valuable by letting her have that moment on his back. <br /><br />I’ve always wondered about people who are afraid of their horses. If you were afraid of dogs, would you want a dog? Probably not. If you were afraid of snakes, would you get a snake? Definitely not. But horses are a different story. I can honestly say that the majority of the people I have taught riding to in the past ten years were on some level afraid of their horses. Some were even brave enough to admit this fact, often crumbling in the middle of a lesson into a heap of uncontrollable sobs, but most fought it tooth and nail, transforming fear into anger and relentless determination. Knowing and seeing this with my own eyes, it amazed me that these people kept riding. Why are people willing to go through years of fear, pain, and insecurity just to sit on a horse? Why not take up something less emotionally challenging like guitar playing, jogging or cooking?<br /><br />Why? Because they can’t. Because of the magnetic pull of horses overrides even the strongest fear. <br /><br />I believe that people who are drawn to horses subconsciously recognize these animals have something to teach them. We may have no idea how aware horses are of our lives, our deepest fears, our hidden secrets, but somehow we feel an urgent need to be close to these animals. So, we start riding. Not necessarily because we want to ride, but because that is what the world offers in terms of being with horses. Perhaps we are afraid, perhaps we feel like we are in the wrong place on top of the large animal, but if that means we can be close to them, we accept this as part of the bargain. And thus the fearful rider is born. <br /><br />After my lesson, I talked to Sarah again, asking her how she felt. <br /><br />“I feel great, I’m so happy I was able to ride Daniel this time without getting afraid or angry.” <br /><br />“But you do know that you don’t have to ride him,” I said. “If you are afraid, why ride?” <br /><br />Sarah looked at me, I could see she was holding back tears.<br /><br />“No, I have to ride,” she said quietly, before walking away with Daniel. I watched her go, puzzled by this persistence to mount her horse despite her own emotional problems and the obvious signs her horse was giving her. It reminded me of another student I had a while back, who had purchased an old dressage horse so she could learn how to ride correctly, only to discover that the only way to get her horse to move forward was to beat it with a long dressage whip, sit through a number of bucks and pray he would start moving forward. When I arrived at her barn for the first lesson, she was standing nervously in the middle of the arena, holding onto her horse that stood stock still. When I asked her about the horse and heard his tragic story of years of forcing and punishment, I was horrified. The student asked me to ride, but as soon as I was in the saddle, I could feel what she meant; he didn’t want to move another inch with a rider on top of him. <br /><br />After a lengthy talk with the owner, where I told her about just spending time with her horse, perhaps easing into working at liberty and taking long walks by foot in the forest, she broke down and started crying. <br /><br />“You really think I shouldn’t try to ride him?” She said between the sobs. I nodded, feeling sorry for the girl who had just bought herself a horse to ride and now I had told her she should forget about it, at least for the time being. The young girl wiped the tears streaking down her face and said, to my surprise: <br /><br />“Thank you for giving me permission not to ride.”<br /><br />The horse’s role in our society is primarily as a mount. Ask any three year old child what we do with horses and she or he will answer: “We ride them.” When something is this ingrained into our consciousness that even small children are aware of it, it is hardly surprising that adult horse owners believe they have to ride their horses “no matter what.” <br /><br />Interestingly enough, I heard from Sarah the other day. Turns out Daniel’s joints finally gave in, and Sarah is now officially unable to ride him because of his condition. So many people in this situation would have disposed of the horse and bought a new, “better” one, but Sarah doesn’t want another horse. She continues to spend time with Daniel without riding, something I am convinced Daniel was trying to tell her to do from the very beginning. Sarah reported that her fears have not subsided, but rather have evolved and she has realized they have a much larger hold on her life, a hold beyond the barn environment. <br /><br />“Now I can see that I’m afraid of a lot of things and I need to learn to let go of that fear because it&nbsp;holds me back in life. But Daniel is teaching me how to deal with it. And that’s helping me live more the way I want to live.”<br /><br />Horses don’t come into our lives accidentally, but with a purpose. Sometimes their intention is obvious and sometimes it is so subtle that it takes us decades to unravel the meaning. Horses are so deeply connected to the inside of humans that they can and will unearth emotions we desperately try to hide from. <br /><br />Fear is a powerful and uncomfortable sensation that grips each and every one of us at least a few times during our lives. But there are those of us who live with fear more than others; be it fear of failure, fear of taking control of our lives, fear of being who we truly are – you name it. Horses seem to navigate towards these people only to bring them over and over again to the place they are trying to avoid the most. I have witnessed this insightful dance, this untangling of painful emotions, again and again, and each time it leaves me captivated by the emotional intelligence of these animals we call horses. <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.</em> ~George EliotKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-12864575759035873942011-02-08T12:12:00.000-08:002011-02-08T12:12:45.407-08:00Adjusting the Scales<em>You live with your thoughts – so be careful what they are</em>. – Eva Arrington<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TVGhcOyTgxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ElL-w2C-Vqc/s1600/thumbnailCAT3R883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TVGhcOyTgxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ElL-w2C-Vqc/s320/thumbnailCAT3R883.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><em>In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul.</em> – Mary Renault<br /><br />A few weeks ago I met a woman who is a professional western trainer and a big believer in certain natural horsemanship methods. When she realized I was into horses, she immediately wanted to know my approach to riding and horses in general. I chose my words carefully, as it is sometimes hard to explain what I “do” with my horse in comparison to what others do. <br /><br />After listening to my account, she said: “Ah, that’s good, at least you are not one of those crazy people who push their horse beyond its limits. I’m into the John Lyons method, he’s amazing. So kind to horses and never uses too much pressure; never demands too much.” <br /><br />I nodded. I’m not that familiar with John Lyons, apart from knowing that he is a natural horsemanship trainer and applies similar methods than other such trainers; training a horse using operant conditioning through pressure and release i.e. negative reinforcement. I used to pursue these methods myself, but have since started exploring something I would describe as conscious horse – human interaction. However, I acknowledge the value any method that aims to be kind can have in encouraging people to think about animal welfare. In any case, I have decided to keep an open mind to what people have to say about their way of doing things – whatever that is.<br /><br />The woman talked highly about the gentle ways of this method and the patience it required. I liked the words the woman was using: kind, gentle, patient so I asked her questions, to find out exactly what she was all about. When she realized I was interested, she plunged deeper into her analysis of horsemanship in general. She was obviously looking for validation for her way of being with horses. It didn’t take too long for her to start talking about what other people did. <br /><br />“Oh, there is this woman at our barn, she is so stupid. The things she does to her horse in the name of training. I hate her.” <br /><br />I hate her. I cringed at the strong statement. Hate is a powerful emotion. The more I listened to the woman, the more anger poured over me, but it wasn’t mine, it was hers. She couldn’t stand this or that person; she hated this trainer or that trainer. So and so was abusive and therefore stupid. What happened to kind, gentle and patient? I have witnesses a lot of abuse towards horses in the past six years I have lived in Switzerland, but I can’t say I have ever hated anyone for it. After about 40 minutes of talking to the woman, I simply had to get away. I felt drained, tired. Was this what horses felt around her, too? The amount of negative energy this woman projected on me, was wearing me down.<br /><br />I thought about my New Year’s Resolution: to try to observe, rather than evaluate. This woman was definitely making evaluations rather than observations, but I can’t say I was doing any better. What had started as an attempt to learn more about the woman’s beliefs, ended up in me judging her judging others. <br /><br />What is it with negative energy? I don’t know if you have noticed, but it is everywhere, circulating our planet faster than any known weather pattern, pushing itself into every nook and cranny it possibly can. And I’m not just talking about the horse world, but the world in general. <br /><br />Humans are negative by nature. We seem to produce negative energy like it is a life source. We take pleasure in wallowing in misery, ours or other peoples. We make it our business to judge others for what they do, without really knowing why they do it. It is so easy to look at others and ridicule them, bad mouth them. It makes us feel better, more worthy. Because isn’t that was this is all about: feeling worthy, feeling superior? <br /><br />And what are the direct and indirect effects of this negativity we seem to spread around without a second thought? - Massive. <br /><br />Exactly a year ago in January my small Jack Russell was attacked by a runaway dog much larger than herself. She was nearly killed, ripped to pieces by this male dog which had absolutely no reason to attack my tiny female dog with such ferociousness. And yet it did. Two hours prior this attack, the dog and his female companion had run away from their owner and had since roamed the woods, moving further and further away from home. When my dog and I had the unfortunate luck to run across the pair, they were both acting strangely hostile. <br /><br />Later, while my vet was patching up my dog, we discussed the incident. He was appalled. Just the day before he had witnessed another small dog die from injuries sustained in a similar situation. The man was very sad to tell me that this was his daily bread, patching up dogs injured in senseless fights. He had been a vet for almost twenty years, and he said that the situation was getting worse; more and more dogs out of control, more and more aggressiveness and hostility in animals formerly known as man’s best friend. <br /><br />I went home stunned. What was going on? Something the vet had said rung in my ears as I nursed my dog back to life: “Unhappy humans create unhappy animals.”<br /><br />I knew this was true, hadn’t I see the same equation over and over again in the horse world, wasn’t that once part of my daily bread, patching up the relationships gone bad between horse and human? “Show me your horse and I’ll tell you who you are” is something I like to say to people when explaining the way animals reflect not only our behavior, but our most inner being. Horses show us who we are. But if horses (and other domestic animals) are direct reflections of who we are, what does the current emotional and psychological state of animals around us tell us about our society as a whole? <br /><br />As I made an attempt to escape the woman who was infatuated with John Lyons and who seemed to hate pretty much everyone who had anything to do with horses and didn’t do it her way, I stopped myself. Who was I kidding? Running away from her negative energy was no solution. In fact, I would probably drag part of it with me and project it onto some other unsuspecting bystander like myself as soon as I was out of the woman’s sight. Instead, I should do what horses do; project it back in a clear way, to demonstrate that this was not alright. Maybe something positive could come out of all this negative?<br /><br />The world may be filled with negative energy, but on the same token, there is a growing movement for all things positive. It may have started as a new age idea, but soon, to balance out the chemistry of the universe, it took on a life of its own. This is why for example Eckhart Tolle has sold millions of copies of his books. There is a collective initiative for change, hence the reason I write this blog, for starters! <br /><br />Eckhart Tolle’s message is simple; to transcend our ego-based state of consciousness. Sounds great, but in real life is everything but easy. Our ego is quite strong and it can have a death grip on our psyche. It takes a lot to change who you are and become the person you want to be. Especially when it means letting go of the competitive and critical being we have become. <br /><br />I know, I’m starting to sound like a psychologist, to say the least. But as I am trying to understand my own tendencies to judge and criticize, I am discovering the source of the negative energy within. It truly lies in the heart of feeling unworthy; it is being bred in a place where I am certain I am not enough, yet I know better. This dichotomy boggles the mind. We think we know it all (compared to others, who are not as enlightened as we are), but at the same time we are insecure about what we know and do. <br /><br />Again, I look to horses for the answers. My horse, Little Love, is by no stretch of imagination a sociable horse when it comes to people, after all, her experiences of people have not always been very pleasant. She doesn’t, however, hold this against anyone. When she meets a new person, she quietly and politely observes the human. Her demeanor is neutral; until the person proves his intentions. And even when there is negative energy projected on her, she holds her stoic neutrality, unless her personal space is grossly evaded. In that case, she demonstrates her opinion clearly, only to return to the neutral equilibrium. I believe she can do this, because her life is centered the right way, she knows what is important (which would be this very moment) and not many things can rock that balance. <br /><br />Perhaps that is what it is about; balance. Maybe we all need to adjust the scales in our lives or discover the real center; maybe we have just focused too much on the things that are not so important and wasted energy on things that belong on the fringes, like worrying too much about being perfect or about what others do and say. We like to scrutinize everything under a microscope instead of looking out into the horizon with soft eyes, taking in the big picture, seeing not only the what is going wrong, but all the things that are going right at the same time.<br /><br />Why not let go of trying to be&nbsp;perfect, even if just&nbsp;for a second? Why not stop the inner critic before he talks?&nbsp; Why not travel in the dark for a while and feel your way around, instead of always having to know where you are going (and where others should be going)? <br /><br />What is the worst thing that could happen? <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.</em> - Helen KellerKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-40891301027032963022011-01-31T12:03:00.000-08:002011-01-31T12:05:36.138-08:00The Gift<em>Pleasure is spread through the earth</em><br /><em>In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.</em><br />~William Wordsworth, 1806<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcTuJ9yLtI/AAAAAAAAAEw/btWBvyXjd84/s1600/thegift.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcTuJ9yLtI/AAAAAAAAAEw/btWBvyXjd84/s320/thegift.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />Look at the picture above. What do you see? <br /><br />What you are looking at is a picture of a poster that is for sale for approximately 20 dollars in an American horse catalogue. The text beside the poster says: “The image of an inquisitive muzzle nuzzling a timid, but determined little hand evokes memories of an experience all horse lovers hold in common.” <br /><br />The name of the poster is “The Gift”, but I am left unsure as to what gift this is referring to; the imprisoned horse giving the girl the gift of the nuzzle or the girl giving the imprisoned horse the gift of touch. <br /><br />When I was a child, all the horse posters on my walls (and I assure you, there were MANY), illustrated various horses in freedom. I can’t remember one single one with a tacked up horse, let alone a ridden one or one stuck behind bars. Is this what the equestrian world has come to? Is taking the freedom of another living being so “normal” that it is now even depicted in posters for children? The above picture is supposed to evoke “memories of an experience we all hold in common”. I can tell you it definitely evokes my memories. In fact, some of those memories are of experiences from the not so distant past. I remember writing about one of those experiences in my blog (Levels of Imprisonment, August 29, 2010). I wrote: “But if there is a will, there is a way. The only opening to this horse’s box stall is a small gap above his feeder through which the barn worker delivers the daily grain portions. It is just big enough to fit a human hand and a scoop. And a horse’s muzzle. “<br /><br />I was writing about a gelding who would twist his neck to an unconceivable angle just to get his nose pushed through the feeder hole. And why? To touch another horse. <br /><br />Here is a picture I took much later of that very same horse. Unfortunately, this time his neighbor's window was closed and the two horses could not touch.&nbsp; What you see is him reaching out to me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcUCQrLk_I/AAAAAAAAAE0/oTDEhwqe-qk/s1600/letmeout.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcUCQrLk_I/AAAAAAAAAE0/oTDEhwqe-qk/s320/letmeout.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />The similarities to the poster are obvious, but the context completely different. Perhaps my memories are not the memories the catalogue was talking about… <br /><br />Little Love and I have been gone from her old barn for a mere three weeks, but somehow that short time already feels like a lifetime. At her old barn horses lived in stalls exactly like the one in the poster picture. They rarely were able to touch each other. If it happened, it was an accident or the product of horse ingenuity. Perhaps the top electric wire broke between two pastures or the electricity was left off for a brief moment or a horse managed to get loose from his owner and ran to another horse. Or a horse stuck his nose through his feeder hole. But these were exceptions to the rule. And the rule was no touching. <br /><br />When we were still there, I did my best to produce the horse to horse touch for Little Love. I know she would have preferred another horse to me as I am a sad replacement, but she took what she could get. <br /><br />One day not so long ago I was scratching her over the withers, something she loves. As I started rubbing her hard with my fingers, she leaned into me with her nose wiggling. This prompted her new neighbor, a large gelding, to spin around in his stall and stare at me in disbelief. For a moment he merely observed what I was doing, then he took action. He pushed his head against the metal bars that separated his space from Little Love’s. I could see his eyes fix on me. “Come on, rub me, too” he was saying. <br /><br />I continued rubbing Little Love with one hand as I pushed the fingers of my other hand through the bars. I could just about fit half my hand through. The gelding moved his head and let my fingers scratch over his forehead and nose. Then he positioned his neck to be in line with my hand. So there I stood, scratching Little Love’s withers with my left hand and with my right attempted to reach her neighbor, the big gelding. Both horses stretched their noses out in pleasure and breathed at each other through the bars of the stall. <br /><br />We are mammals; we all have the need to touch each other and to be touched. Companionship is one of our basic needs, along with eating, drinking, moving and sex. Living in isolation can affect the mental state of any animal, but especially horses, as they are by nature herd animals. Isolation induces stress and a stressed animal cannot learn and train with 100% capacity. Yet ironically it is often the so called performance horses that live in such isolation.<br /><br />I can now truly see the detriments of forcing an animal to live in a cage. Little Love, the horse that had not had any real horse-to-horse contact for over ten years, has now been going outside with her new friend Col for seven whole days. Due to this fact, she is a changed horse. She is more grounded, more relaxed, more at peace. Yes, she is still coming into a stall at night, but the fact that she can at all times reach over the wall and touch another of her kind, is huge. <br /><br />I am happy I can finally give her the gift of a social life after all those years of isolation. And there are not a lot of things I enjoy more than watching Little Love interact with her first horse-friend in a decade. Hopefully someday she can give up stall living completely and join a herd living outside, but for the moment, she is visibly content with this small change to her life. In fact, she is so content, that someone could say she doesn’t need me anymore, at least not the way she “needed” me in her previous life. And there is some truth to that, since an imprisoned animal (or person, for that matter) will undoubtedly look forward to any interaction, even if it is with his captor and a member of another species. In that light, can we even pretend to have a real relationship with an animal that is kept in solitary confinement? I have to say that I still feel and hope I had a connection with Little Love before, when she lived a different life. This connection is now evolving and although I definitely have lost something precious (her undivided attention, perhaps?), I have also gained, and continue to gain something else in return, a whole new level of consciousness and connection I never knew about before. <br /><br />This, I believe, is&nbsp;truly a&nbsp;gift. <br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>If you love something, set it free; if it comes back it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was. </em><br />- Anonymous<br /><br />PS. There is another major detriment to the stall-bound life: insufficient movement. Horses are born to move and they should be allowed to move, day and night. Movement is what keeps their bodies healthy, starting from their hooves but affecting the joints, muscles and other tissues. A horse kept in a stall does not move enough and is thus prone to injury. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcUeg9m8FI/AAAAAAAAAE4/WKsA7ny3zV0/s1600/prisonlove.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TUcUeg9m8FI/AAAAAAAAAE4/WKsA7ny3zV0/s320/prisonlove.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Two horses stretching out to touch each otherKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-43492406917985067982011-01-21T12:48:00.000-08:002011-01-22T13:24:15.326-08:00Just for Encouragement<em>I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent.</em> ~ Mahatma Gandhi<br /><br /><br />Last fall I met a lady, who had just recently gotten back to horses after years of having nothing to do with riding. The woman owned a big gelding with which she rides trails. She had a kind attitude towards her horse, but was nevertheless going down the traditional route, more or less. We were having a conversation about Little Love’s abusive past and how it affected the present day. I was telling her that it was extremely hard for Little Love to witness the abuse of other horses. <br /><br />“You mean people at your barn hit their horses?” the woman asked.<br /><br />“Yes, some do,” I said (this was when I was not yet Lilo’s owner and she was still boarding at the big barn close to my house).<br /><br />The woman shook her head in disbelief. “I have never hit my horse. Ever.” <br /><br />Ten minutes later, she showed me one of her many crops. “I always carry a whip when I ride though, but it’s just for encouragement. Like if he stops on the trails, I just tap him with it – to help him.” <br /><br />Everything is relative, I suppose. Violence is not a black and white issue, but rather another one of those grey matters. Nobody wants to say they hit their horse; it is much easier to use words like encourage, guide, correct, help, tell, tap and even smack. And it is true, there are different levels of abuse. To take a four foot whip and hit the horse as hard as you can surely is different than giving him a few slaps on the shoulder. <br /><br />Or is it really? What are the mental and emotional consequences for the horse that is subject to such actions? Especially when often this sort of behavior is coupled with extremely bad timing and human emotions that are running high?<br /><br />Horses, unlike other animals, are trained mainly using negative reinforcement instead of positive reinforcement. In positive reinforcement a desired behavior is rewarded by adding a pleasant stimulus, a reinforcer - such as food, and thus making this response more likely in the future. So, in a nutshell, when&nbsp;we use&nbsp;positive reinforcement training, the animal goes from a neutral state to a positive state. This training method has been highly successful with animals ranging from marine mammals to dogs. <br /><br />In horse-training, however, we apply pressure to the horse and remove it when the animal gives the desired response. Therefore, the horse starts in a negative condition, but ends in a neutral state. So in a way, you could say that negative reinforcement involves the use of a “pre-punishment”. Of course, the goal is to use as little pressure as possible, but because people don’t know any better, are impatient or have a hard time understanding the principles of this method, they often revert to excessive pressure and even punishment.&nbsp; In addition, the timing of the release is essential for learning, but often becomes equally muddled, leading to severe communication problems. And a confused horse is often subject to more abuse. <br /><br />I also believe that&nbsp;a training method that is based on using pressure&nbsp;often paves the way to abusive behavior; if a person has already learned that it is alright to kick the horse, the next step&nbsp;i.e.&nbsp;hitting it with a crop is all too easy to take.<br /><br />While I was in California over the holidays, I&nbsp;ran across my old trainer. She and I have grown miles apart when it comes to horses, but we still greet each other as old (but perhaps a bit apprehensive) friends. Conversation turned to horses, what else, and soon I realized I was listening to my trainer&nbsp;reminiscing about an old acquaintance of ours,&nbsp;a&nbsp;student we once shared.<br /><br />“Remember how she just couldn’t get the horse to move off her leg,” she laughed. “It was terrible, she kept nudging and nudging and nagging and nagging and the horse just stood there.&nbsp;It took her forever to learn to give the aid and then the correction, then another aid and another correction, and so on, until the horse got it. In the end she barely needed the aid and didn’t have to give the correction.” <br /><br />Nudging and nagging? Aid and correction? This is smart horse terminology. And with smart I mean it makes everything sound less abusive than it really is. What my old trainer was talking about was her student repeatedly kicking the horse to get the horse forward (nudge and nag). Her advice was to give a lighter leg signal (aid – as if the rider is somehow helping the horse with her leg) and then hit the horse immediately afterwards, if and when he didn’t react (this is called the correction). In the end, as the horse is now anticipating the abuse, he will undoubtedly move off the light leg “aid” out of fear and thus the rider won’t “have to” (as if we had no choice in the matter and it was the horse forcing us to take this route) beat him.<br /><br />In general, talking about “aids” is slightly misleading. In dressage, this word is used frequently to signify the cues the rider gives to the horse with her leg/reins/seat/whip/spurs. In real life this means the pressure the rider/trainer puts on the horse. <br /><br />In Equitation Science McGreevy and Andrew McLean (my new holy book, it seems) put it well when they comment on the use of the word “aid” in current horse-training, especially dressage: “This word is antique in origin, derived from the French verb ‘aider’, meaning ‘to help’. The notion that cues in any way offer assistance to horses is anthropocentric and… nourishes the notion of the ‘benevolent’ horse, the horse that is a willing partner. Horse-trainers should respectfully recognize that training is an act of equine exploitation rather than equine enlightenment…”<br /><br />I find the term “equine exploitation” to the point. Because isn’t that really what current horse-training is?&nbsp;Unfortunately, to train a horse in the competition-driven world, it is hard not to rely on negative reinforcement.&nbsp; Yet, unlike positive reinforcement training, the effects of this&nbsp;method have not been studied much.&nbsp; Many trainers don't even know they are using negative reinforcement, as they confuse it with positive reinforcement. In any case,&nbsp;using such&nbsp;a training method without really understanding the principles of learning theory can lead to the use of excessive pressure and punishment.<br /><br />The other problem in the realm of competitive equestrian sports is that the rules permit hitting horses with whips. When the FEI states in their General Regulations (2007) that “whipping or beating the horse excessively” is forbidden, they imply that hitting the horse is alright, as long as it’s not excessive. And what exactly is “excessive whipping” and how can any outsider be the judge of that? How can we justify any kind of violence, even if it is not “excessive”? <br /><br />The FEI is the authority in many parts of the equestrian community. Perhaps they don’t directly affect the majority of riders in the world, but indirectly their violent attitude towards horses is significant, because it trickles down to the grass root equestrians, many of whom are children. <br /><br />How is it possible that the governing body of competitive equestrian sports is supporting punishment as a training method? What good can ever come from the use of punishment? If it isn’t common sense to realize the long-term disadvantages of abusive training, science backs it up. B.F. Skinner, the American behavioral psychologist, concluded years ago&nbsp;that positive reinforcement was greater to punishment in altering behavior. According to him punishment was not simply the opposite of positive reinforcement; positive reinforcement results in lasting behavioral changes, whereas punishment changes behavior only temporarily and presents many detrimental side effects. <br /><br />So many people claim they don’t hit their horses.&nbsp; I did, too - once upon a time.&nbsp;And if I did hit them, they certainly “deserved” it (which somehow didn't count as hitting, right?). It is easier to hit a big animal than something smaller, say a dog, which on top of cowering down onto the floor will make pathetic whimpering noises. Horses don’t do that – unfortunately. <br /><br />A while ago I witnessed someone brushing their horse. The horse was&nbsp;extremely unhappy, pinning his ears back and making threats to bite. The person brushing the horse ignored all this and carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And&nbsp;perhaps nothing was; maybe&nbsp;this was how the horse always reacted to brushing. <br /><br />Finally, after several minutes, the horse crabbed the woman’s arm and bit into it – hard. She yelped in shock.<br /><br />“How dare you bite me,” she hollered and stared at her horse incredulously. “That’s it, I won’t talk to you anymore,” she continued. <br /><br />Then, as an afterthought, about ten seconds after the fact, she hit the horse on the neck with her fist. The horse turned his head away; his eyes were tired and there was a sort of accepting look in them. Or was he merely dissociating from the situation? After all, he had tried his best to communicate his feelings to the person brushing him.&nbsp; <br /><br />Little Love, who had witnessed the whole scene, sighed and chewed and lowered her head. It seemed that she, too, sort of shrugged the incident off. If that horse had flinched or yelped out loud or cowered away from the human who hit him, had it made a difference? Would she have then perhaps seen the consequences of her actions? I’ll never know, because the horse took it like only a horse does, silently, stoically and without an ounce of blame or anger. And before I opened my mouth to share some of my thoughts with the owner, I sent him a message of love – just for encouragement. <br /><br />~ K<br /><br /><em>Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.</em> ~ Salvor HardinKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-11631654730755960852011-01-13T13:35:00.000-08:002011-01-13T13:39:07.743-08:00The Magic of Miracles<em>I think miracles exist in part as gifts and in part as clues that there is something beyond the flat world we</em> <em>see.&nbsp; -</em>Peggy Noonan<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TS9v7fSKOvI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rBHInb-HUrY/s1600/sniff.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TS9v7fSKOvI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rBHInb-HUrY/s320/sniff.JPG" width="269" /></a></div>Someone, and I believe the quote is attributed to Lynn Andrews who wrote the book Walk in Balance, said that “for magic to happen in your life, you must believe in magic.” I think she was right. In fact, I think basically if you think of something long enough, it will somehow happen. And that is exactly what happened to me and Little Love. <br /><br />One Saturday the 9th of January 2011 I became Little Love’s official owner. Even though I wished for this for so long, I still didn’t see it coming when it happened. One day I was teaching her owner to ride the mare and the next she called me and said she was “done” riding the horse. I’m not going to dwell over her reasons for suddenly wanting an out from the ownership of Little Love, as it is part of her personal journey, but in the end she gave me an ultimatum: take her or leave her (in which case she would sell her to a breeder). <br /><br />This of course happened at the worst possible moment: as I was literally packing my bags for our annual family visit to California – for three weeks. Not much to think, not that I had to think. But, I did have to convince my husband to thinking a horse was exactly what we needed, especially now that we know we will be moving this year – possibly overseas. Luckily I have a pretty understanding husband, and with understanding I mean he supported my wish even though neither of us is made of money. <br /><br />Yes, I know, he is a saint. <br /><br />So, long story as short as possible. Two days before our plane was scheduled to leave; I signed papers, withdrew half of my savings from the bank and handed them over to Little Love’s owner. She, in exchange, promised to take care of the horse until I came back. My only option really, as I could not think of anyone else to do that. In the meanwhile I was frantically looking around for a new barn. I knew that when I was back from my trip, I needed to move Lilo out of&nbsp;her barn, not only because of the atmosphere, but because it cost an arm and a leg to keep a horse there. I wanted a stable where she could at least go outside every day, rain or shine, preferably with other horses. I had two days and I was panicking, needless to say. <br /><br />But then, another miracle. I woke up in the middle of the night and had a vision of a newspaper I once read, four years prior. In the morning I looked it up on the internet and low and behold, they had a classified section for horses. And there it was, the little ad “Looking for a horse to keep company to my gelding. Prefer English speaking person.” (the ad was in French). Well, did I need more of a sign? Not really.<br /><br />I met the lady and her horse the next day. It was exactly what I was looking for. A stall, but lots of outside time and the possibility to have the horses together if they got along. As a bonus there was also an outdoor arena and great trails. And not for an arm and a leg. Given, the woman seemed a bit on the traditional side when it came to horse care, but eventhough she liked to have 10 blankets for her horse (one for every weather condition) and put three different pairs of boots on him when he went outside, she was a kind person. She also seemed to be willing to put up with my “quirks” which I carefully ran by her (bitless bridle, barefoot horse, no blankets really and we don’t ride much). We struck a deal. She and her horse would wait for us to return from California and then she would pick us up in her trailer. <br /><br />Which happened last Sunday. <br /><br />Timing could not have been worse. I had only been back in the country for 24 hours. It had been raining nonstop for days and Little Love hadn’t been outside for a week. It became soon apparent that she hadn’t had a lot of time outside her stall perse for the past three weeks. Due to the dressage clinic going on at the barn, the aisles were bustling with people – everybody was there. I had no opportunity to let Little Love go in any of the arenas to decompress the stress she had. Finally I saddled her up and rode her into the woods, cantering her down those familiar roads for the last time. It helped a bit, but I could not feel the connection, she was floating near dissociation from whatever had been going on for the past three weeks. <br /><br />Loading her into the trailer in the pouring rain was a nightmare. Have I ever mentioned that she has an extreme fear of trailers? This fear stems from countless bad loading experiences involving whips and a lot of rearing, which often resulted in her falling over. And her fear is not just about trailers; it extends to include almost any small space, even if it is merely built from cavalettis on the ground. <br /><br />I have loaded Little Love into a trailer before. This was at a time when I hadn’t quite internalized how abusive certain natural horsemanship techniques could be. I used a halter that tightened around the horse’s nose when it pulled back, but, on the same token, gave me the opportunity to “reward” the horse with a release, when it took a step forward. Pressure and release. Most people think this is training with positive reinforcement and so did I, a few years back. <br /><br />In hindsight, I should have just had someone else load her into that trailer and have nothing to do with it myself. But to do that would have required some amazing foresight. I had practiced going into all kinds of small spaces with Little Love. Given, none of them were the trailer, but I was hoping everything we had learned together would transfer into the loading situation. <br /><br />But sometimes hope is not enough. I believed she would just walk into that trailer if I gave her all the time in the world to decide to go in. I had, however, not quite fathomed that she needed days, weeks, maybe months to do that. Or maybe I knew all this; hadn’t I often wished I had a trailer and an area where I could park it and simply let Little Love get used to it in freedom, at her own pace? But I guess my desperate state of denial led me to believe I could bypass all that.<br /><br />Over an hour later Little Love refused to even look at the trailer, let alone go close to it. She had been inside three times, but had not stayed in. She felt like that was enough for the day, and on an ordinary day that would have been plenty. But this was not an ordinary day – this was the day she had to stay in the trailer, because we were leaving. Many people walked by, some smiling and shaking their heads. The barn owner showed up uninvited with a large broom, like that would help. It was cold and we were all wet, including Little Love, who slipped in and out of dissociation, depending how close she was to the trailer. <br /><br />I made the decision to let go of the fantasy in my head. In the end we forced Little Love into the trailer using longelines behind her and the said natural horsemanship halter my husband dug out from our cellar. She fought back bravely, but then eventually gave in. When I watched her shaking and locked in, I wanted to vomit.<br /><br />Finally my horse was in the trailer, but I was heartbroken. I had done what I had vowed never to do again – I had taken control of her and forced her against her will. Driving to the new barn owner’s place I was silent and she sensed my mood. She said, cheerfully:<br /><br />“Well, that wasn’t too bad.”<br /><br />I looked at her, trying not to cry again.<br /><br />“That was horrible,” I said. <br /><br />“But why?” she said. “You didn’t hit her.” <br /><br />How could I, in a nutshell, explain to this woman I had just met and who meant well (bless her heart, she had been so patient during the loading process), that I might as well have hit Little Love, as I had caused her pain and fear and anxiety all the same. I tried explaining negative reinforcement and what it did to animals, but the lady had no idea what I was talking about.<br /><br />“But you didn’t hit her, it was all positive. Every time she came forward towards the trailer, you released the pressure.” she kept saying. “She had a choice.”<br /><br />She had no&nbsp;choice, far from it, but I was too tired to speak. And I was so ashamed. <br /><br />But, I had my horse in the trailer. And that trailer was taking us away from our own life to a place where maybe we had a chance of being who we really were. One day.<br /><br />We have been at the new place for four whole days now. Little Love was extremely nervous in the beginning and she still is alert and aloof. She barely gives me the time of day, which is probably what I deserve. I have tried to stop thinking of what we had to do to get her into the trailer, but it is hard. I can come up with a million things I could have done differently but didn’t. And now here I am, literally in square one with this horse. With my horse.<br /><br />I believe this is the lesson I will have to learn over and over again. All my life everything has been so easy for me with horses; I was the talented one, the good rider, the naturally gifted trainer. Blah blah blah. That all means nothing in the face of this one black mare that will barely look my way. And that is why she is now my horse, I suppose. So I can learn to be the human being I need to be. This is not about talent. And it’s not going to be easy. <br /><br />I drive to the barn twice a day and marvel over my beautiful black mare. I think of everything we did together, the connection we discovered back at the toxic barn. Or was that really a connection? Was that just her way of dealing with imprisonment and now that she is free of that world, she wants to be free of what we had? Can we create a new connection, something we didn’t have there? <br /><br />I don’t want to go back to the old barn, but I can sense that Little Love is grieving. It was her home for many, many years, after all. She lived with 30 other horses at that stable, and before that with 80 horses at another facility. She knew nothing else. And now, here she is, shell shocked with the one and only gelding who wants to befriend her more than anything else. Just the two of them and all those big fields to run around in. Maybe this is where she could begin to learn how be a horse again; where she could practice for the future, where ever the future may take us. <br /><br />I always credit Little Love for teaching me patience, but I had no idea that there were more lessons in patience for me to discover. I feel so lost at the moment, as if the map I had was somehow misplaced, or perhaps I just fell off the map and am myself misplaced. And perhaps she feels the same. Was this a miracle after all? Where did the magic go? I love this horse, but I don’t feel she loves me back. Maybe she never will. I am coming to realize that perhaps horses don’t love people the same way we love them. But if we could find an ounce of&nbsp;the magic&nbsp;we once shared... I want to be convinced that there is something beyond "the flat world we see".&nbsp; Hopefully I will discover it, some day.<br /><br />Wish me luck.<br /><br />~K<br /><br /><em>There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is miracle.</em> – Albert Einstein<br /><br />Ps. You can read more of Little Love on my new blog “Song of the Black Horse: A Student’s Notes” at <a href="http://www.songoftheblackhorse.blogspot.com/">http://www.songoftheblackhorse.blogspot.com/</a>&nbsp; This&nbsp;new blog&nbsp;will be more of a diary type reading. I will continue to explore other equine related subjects through personal essays on this blog.Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-53481635098844161482011-01-05T20:38:00.000-08:002011-01-05T20:38:17.595-08:00Freedom Fighters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVBmlNScKI/AAAAAAAAADo/7rGUCkwtnzk/s1600/simbarearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVBmlNScKI/AAAAAAAAADo/7rGUCkwtnzk/s320/simbarearing.jpg" width="193" /></a></div><br /><em>To be dragged in the wake of the passive flock and to pass a hundred and one times beneath the shears of the shepherd, or to die alone like a brave eagle on a rocky crag of a great mountain: that is the dilemma.</em> ~Praxedis Guerrero, RegeneraciÓn, 18 February 1911<br /><br />Last summer I was visiting a local riding school close to my family's summer home in Finland and hit it off with the owner/riding teacher, who readily showed me the horses in her barn. She was a lady looking for solutions for a pony who seemed to be afraid of the bit and she had heard of my affiliation with the bitless bridle. As we were talking and visiting the horses, she motioned me to a stall.<br /><br />"This is Bira," she said. "She was a harness racing horse, but didn't do too well at that."<br /><br />I looked into the stall and met eyes with a beautiful, chestnut mare. Her face were kind, but suspicious. <br /><br />"Actually, she was already scheduled to go to slaughter and was practically on the truck with two other young horses, but then I was able to talk my husband (the harness racer) into breeding her. I just couldn't see her go."<br /><br />Bira stuck her nose at me and touched my hand. I wondered if she knew how I was feeling when I heard her story. Probably. I stroked her neck. <br /><br />"Why was she going to slaughter in the first place?"<br /><br />"Oh, they just didn't have use for her anymore and she isn't much of a mount, although I do now ride her. But I can't have her in the riding lessons. She is quite nervous of people." <br /><br />The lady was right: Bira was very nervous of people. She did, however, stand politely when you brushed her and tacked her up, but her unease in the situation was obvious. She stood still to let you on her back, but if you even remotely moved out of balance or grabbed onto the reins, she was gone. It didn't take too long for the lady to say the magic words so often spoken to me in situations like this:<br /><br />"Could you ride her for me?"<br /><br />In the next two weeks I came back and rode Bira a few times with the bitless bridle, which worked for her far better than any of the bitted bridles she had experienced in her life (dressage snaffles look like child's play compared to harness racing equipment for those who have never seen any...). I spent a significant amount of time focusing on grounding myself through a breathing routine I do and Bira did well, under the circumstances, but I felt a disconnect that made my heart ache. I was certain there was so much more to this little mare; deep down she was another Little Love, waiting to be discovered. <br /><br />"She is having a baby next year, so she's safe for a while," the owner said wistfully one day. "I'm hoping she could learn to be a riding school horse, then we could keep her. You being able to ride her in the bitless gives me hope." The lady looked at me and it was obvious she loved this horse. I went home with a wish for her and Bira.<br /><br />I was also shocked. I hadn't realized healthy and vibrant horses like Bira could end up in the slaughter house, but it made sense. Who would buy her? You couldn't sell her as a race horse or a riding horse. How many of these horses were sent yearly to their death just because they weren't "good" enough?<br /><br />In Australia the Sydney Herald newspaper tried to do the math. In February 2008 they wrote: Of the 17,000 thoroughbreds born last year only about two-thirds will ever make it to the racetrack. Of those, most suffer injuries or do not run fast enough and only about 1 to 3 per cent make it to top events." <br /><br />In Great Britain 4,000 foals never make it to training. The racing industry is brutal. They produce foal after foal, looking for the perfect runner, but at the same time discard the ones that don't seem to "have it". Being slow can be life-threatening.<br /><br />I kept Bira in my heart, but it wasn't until I was reading the book <em>Equitation Science</em> by Paul McGreevy and Andrew McLean that I realized the enormity of the horse slaughter scene. According McGreevy and McLean "among non-racehorses, previous studies indicate that up to 66% of euthanasia in horses between 2 and 7 years of age was not because of health disorders." This is a staggering finding. The racing industry was one thing, but my image of permanently ill and old riding horses going to slaughter was instantly turned upside down. Young and healthy riding horses and ponies were being culled as well. And why? McGreevy and McLean continue, giving you the answer: "The implication is that they were culled for behavioral reasons." <br /><br />McGreevy and McLean also state that "horses are being confused on a very regular basis by less-than-ideal handling and become unusable, or worse, dangerous as a result." <br /><br />My friend Sam has a horse called Destiny, or should I say, Destiny has a owner called Sam. Destiny, or D as she is known to her friends, was once one of those horses McGreevy and McLean talk about. She could have easily become another statistic, had her path not crossed with that of Sam's. When they met, she was unrideable, uncooperative and her reputation preceded her. Her corkscrew bucks were impressive and had launched several trainers out of the saddle. She was known to attack people. Her owner could not even lead her out of her stall into the arena without an incident. <br /><br />It is hard to believe that now, two years later. You can see for yourself, she is the spotted mare in the photographs taken just two weeks ago when she was teaching young Maleah how to be with horses. And what a teacher she is! I would hope for everyone to meet a horse like&nbsp;Destiny at least once in their life; she brings such peace and grounded energy to the world. It is impossible to not feel good in her presence. Maybe that is why people who meet her often describe her as "Mother Earth". <br /><br />And what made Destiny change her ways? I suppose it was a multitude of things. Sam said the first time he met her, he opted to take a different route than all the other trainers who had tried to "tame" her; he simply did nothing. He recalls taking his lunch to the barn and merely sitting on the fence watching her. It seemed like a good plan, so he showed up again the next day. And then the next. Eventually he became Dee's owner and took her to his place where she now lives and teaches children and other horses about the horse-human connection. She also no longer lives in a stall, is free fed, barefoot and gets to play with other horses, if she so chooses. Choice is a big part of her world; participation in any activity is always her choice. And most of the times she does choose to participate, as she loves hanging out with people, especially kids.<br /><br />Despite Destiny's reputation Sam says he never really got into a fight with her, except once when he was trying to give her a shot. She bent the needle and attacked him. He said it took her a long time to forgive him for that one, but it took him a lot shorter time to realize what he had done wrong. He never tried to control her again and accepted her as who she was. And because of that, Dee can now respond to Sam's requests instead of reacting to his actions. <br /><br />So many horses accept human training methods without much resistance; they suffer in silence because they know that fighting back will bring more pain. These are the horses people look for; the "keepers" that seemingly comply to our world. In their quiet, but unrelenting ways, these horses still seek to teach us about (in)humanity. But, if we let it happen, it is the Destinies and Biras of the world that truly have the potential to grab our attention, because they are screaming this message out loud. It is these horses, these freedom fighters, that really have the power to change a man. <br /><br />According to the Animal Welfare Institute, over 100,000 horses went to slaughter in 2008 in the United States. The Daily Mail reports that roughly the same amount of horses are transported into and around the European Union for human consumption in countries such as Switzerland and France. Many of those horses are physically healthy, sound young animals - like Destiny and Bira. People rally against horse slaughter and I can see the point, but why not go to the root of the problem? Why not look at the current training methods used with horses and change the way we train horses? Why not put an effort into reducing the amount of horses going to slaughter?<br /><br />Luckily the world is changing. People with real understanding for horses and animal behavior are emerging from the crowds. Books like <em>Equitation Science</em>, that explain horse behavior and learning theory, are being published and will hopefully change the way people look at training horses. More and more people are keen to give their horses natural living conditions. Every little step helps, even if it is a small and tentative step. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSU_uz7b5AI/AAAAAAAAADY/r8JknTegENM/s1600/maliaanddee2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSU_uz7b5AI/AAAAAAAAADY/r8JknTegENM/s320/maliaanddee2.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><br />I think of Little Love and her painful journey to where she is at now. She is a horse with an opinion and she has held onto that opinion through thick and thin. Thanks to her owner's persistence (and some luck), she never became a statistic, but at times it was definitely a possibility. We have all known at least one horse like her; the ones that didn't "fit in", the ones everyone feared and nobody wanted to ride, the ones that didn't meet the potential humans had assigned to them - the 'crazy" ones. Sadly, I admit to knowing so many over the years that I have lost count.<br /><br />There are no bad horses, there are just horses that have been misused, mistreated and misunderstood by humans. I used to think these horses needed to be fixed, as if they were merely a train that had veered slightly off track. But I can now see it was I who had derailed - big time. I hope others are faster to learn this lesson than I was. I try to forgive myself for my past, because it is more important that I am here now, holding my human heart close to the heart of a freedom fighter. Together we manifest for the ones out there that have not yet found a partner in heart of their own. <br /><br />~ K<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAQ5Z4DWI/AAAAAAAAADc/QQuglUODB5k/s1600/sittingwithdee.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAQ5Z4DWI/AAAAAAAAADc/QQuglUODB5k/s320/sittingwithdee.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAnkbNDII/AAAAAAAAADg/XxZW0u2rjqs/s1600/runningwithdee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAnkbNDII/AAAAAAAAADg/XxZW0u2rjqs/s320/runningwithdee.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAzbMaizI/AAAAAAAAADk/4vPgo7rW2D4/s1600/walkingwithdee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TSVAzbMaizI/AAAAAAAAADk/4vPgo7rW2D4/s320/walkingwithdee.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><br /><em>Human consciousness arose but a minute before midnight on the geological clock. Yet we mayflies try to bend an ancient world to our purposes, ignorant perhaps of the messages buried in its long history. Let us hope that we are still in the early morning of our April day</em>. ~Stephen Jay Gould, "Our Allotted Lifetimes," The Panda's Thumb, 1980Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802153206102856416.post-1134440444419311032010-12-30T07:57:00.000-08:002010-12-30T07:57:13.750-08:00I'll Meet You There<em>People who look through keyholes are apt to get the idea that most things are keyhole shaped</em>. ~Author Unknown<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TRyrE1AgC4I/AAAAAAAAADU/8KTS4A2RFjw/s1600/baby-in-picture-illusion%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRpTK3it2XI/TRyrE1AgC4I/AAAAAAAAADU/8KTS4A2RFjw/s320/baby-in-picture-illusion%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><em>What we see depends mainly on what we look for.</em> ~John Lubbock<br /><br /><br />What seems like a lifetime ago I pursued my Masters Degree in English Philology at the University of Helsinki. An avid reader since my childhood I had always wondered if my experience of a story was the same experience for every person who read that particular story, no matter where they lived and who they were. Could someone in Africa read Bronte's Wuthering Heights and feel the same way I did? <br /><br />Common sense told me that each reader would interpret the story from their own backdrop, but what did science say? As it turned out, empirical studies on reader interpretation were extremely rare. This finding merely made me want to know more. So - true to my nature - I decided to embark on my own journey on discovering the answer. The subject of my final thesis was " Literary interpretation and cultural context: An empirical study on women readers from Finland and the United States."<br /><br />The results were intriguing. In a nutshell, it was possible for readers from two different countries to read the same story (by Raymond Carver, if someone is interested) but experience it completely differently. It was not what happened in the story that was important, it was what people perceived happened that mattered. <br /><br />And perception is reality.<br /><br />About a year back I visited a new barn in the area where I live. I sort of found myself there by accident, as I was riding in someone else's car and they wanted to stop and see how the construction at the site was coming along. I had heard people talking about the new place and was fairly sure it was not anything I would be interested in. I was right. Gorgeous as it was, it was just another place humans could trap their horses. The person who had taken me there- let's call her Kathryn- had a completely different view.<br /><br />"Wow, isn't it gorgeous," she gasped as she looked at the vaulted ceiling, the horse solarium, the pristine tack room, the double sized indoor arena adjacent to the stable. "What horse would not want to live here?"<br /><br />I could think of several horses. <br /><br />Kathryn's reaction was a classic example of anthropomorphism i.e. assigning human characteristics to animals and other non-human agents. She was impressed with the lighting in the barn, the large stalls and wide aisles, the warm tack room and the fact that you could walk your horse from the barn to the indoor arena without having to outside - all details a human would appreciate. But a horse? I don't think so. If horses could choose, they would rather live outside in a herd than stay in a cozy (from the human point of view) stable. In fact, many of my friends whose horses live in a place where they can go inside or outside as they please, report that their horse will usually choose to be outside in the elements, even when the weather is less than desirable.<br /><br />I tried to share my view with Kathryn. She looked at me like I was a crazy person. Which I possibly was - in her world. <br /><br />But again, perception is reality. Here we were looking at the same thing, but not seeing the same thing. What she thought was horse paradise looked to me like another horse prison. Our horse care belief systems obviously didn't match, not even close. I could certainly argue my point of view (and she could argue hers), but in the end it would have made little difference - we were looking at the same thing through two different lenses. To change either one of our perceptions would have required a significant personal shift in ideology - an impossibility at that time.<br /><br />Horses more than any other domestic animal seem to be removed from the animal world (dogs do get their fair share of anthropomorphism as well). This fact is perhaps one of the reasons people eventually run into behavioral problems with their horses. Paul Mc Greevy and Andrew McLean write in their newest book Equitation Science that <em>"we might say that a horse is naughty, but we must question whether our notion of human naughtiness can possible apply to horses. Perhaps the naughty horse is merely confused? The problem that then arises is what are we going to do about it? Do we have the right to punish the naughty horse? Clearly, there can be serious welfare problems in attributing human characteristics to horses because of the consequences for them."</em><br /><br />We anthropomorphize horses because it works so well. It is convenient for humans to keep them in their stalls covered with blankets and let them out only in solitude and when the weather conditions are great. That is how we would like to live, were we horses. I now believe that this is not what horses want, but once upon a time I was out there at the barn making sure my horse had "everything it could possibly want" (of which, in hindsight, it cared not an inkling about).<br />For example, I used to be a stickler about keeping my horses clean, because clean horses were happy horses. Thanks to Little Love I have since changed to see this matter differently, but I am aware that this belief lives strong among most equestrians (including her owner). And not just horse people, but ordinary people who know nothing about horses, too. If you took a group of non-equestrians to two separate barns, one where the horses were running around a semi-muddy field in a heard and another where horses were stalled with blankets covering their short, clipped coats, which one do you think the majority would see as humane? I'm fairly confident when I say they would choose the latter barn. <br /><br />Contained, clean, warm and dry - aren't those the four attributes that make a horse (owner) happy?<br /><br />I am doing my best to rid myself of the "anthropomorphic lens". Horse are horses are horses. How could I ever think they were something else? How can anyone else still think that? So here I am, as usual, wanting to make sure everyone around me sees the world the way I do. And, if they don't, make sure to judge them for what they are or aren't. But -as I said in an earlier post this month, I am trying to exercise compassion and understanding. I think I need to try harder, we all do. We should all want to understand why and how we can have arguments over things like animal welfare, childrearing, horse training - all subjects I find quite black and white, but am starting to discover have this grey area I cannot even see, having the wrong lens to work with. <br /><br />My master's thesis proved that people from two relatively similar cultures could interpret an ambiguous short story differently. And culture was not the only thing that determined the differences in interpretation: age, religious background, level of education and previous reading experiences also played a significant role in how readers perceived certain characters and plot turns. My study was not extensive, but it was enough to convince me about the differences in literary interpretation. If written word can have so many meanings, isn't it obvious why we cannot agree on how to be with our horses?<br /><br />Horse people, too, have different ethical standards, different views of the world. We each have our own individual life history that has shaped us to be who we are, to think the way we think and to value the things we value. We have a certain threshold for pain, for knowledge, for comfort, for courage. We have emotional baggage, psychological baggage and even physiological baggage. We have our own needs, hopes, dreams. <br /><br />How could we ever look at an image and see the same image?<br /><br />Perception is reality. <br /><br />What is your reality? What is the lens through which you are looking at the world? Is this the reality you are comfortable with or would you like to open your eyes a little wider and discover another one, a new lens? <br /><br />And if you are like me and want to show someone a piece of your reality, what would be the best approach? Perhaps when black and white seem too much of a contrast, it is best to meet in the grey matter?<br /><br />~ K<br /><br /><em>Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing </em><br /><em>and rightdoing there is a field. </em><br /><em>I'll meet you there.</em> ~ Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi<br /><br /><em>Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you</em>. ~Richard Brinsley Sheridan<br /><br />PS. Can you see the baby in the picture?Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00250005101735182059noreply@blogger.com6